Alcuin did not spend as much time at the Temple of Elua as he once had, perhaps because simply being there made him ache for the loss of Phedre and Joscelin. Though Imriel's appearance here did at least serve to make Terre d'Ange seem closer than it had in recent days.
When he neared the temple he was surprised to see a figure already there - particularly a female figure, as he might only have expected Imriel to pay homage to the statue of Elua that resided there.
But as he neared even closer... he realized that he recognized the figure. Even simply seeing her back.
"Phedre?" His voice was nearly a whisper, as he dared not hope.
In my state, I would confess that my ability to even begin to understand what was happening around me was compromised, and yet I would have to be deaf not to recognize that voice. A voice that had spent countless hours in classes with me, a voice that was a dear to me as any of those I love.
A voice that belonged to a dead man, whose final words still haunted me, made me wonder a thousand times, what if...
Turning, my face still stained with my tears I could naught but stare, the realization seeping into my bones. Alcuin. My beautiful Alcuin. Oh, Elua, upon my death I could ask for no better guide to my life after.
Tears aside, she looked just as Alcuin remembered her. From the island, not from Terre d'Ange. Which meant that, again, she was older than he. That she had lived on without him.
He had been through this before. With James. With Giles. Who had not remembered him. And the way that she was looking at him...
But he was too overwhelmed with joy to think on it for now. He ran forward, and threw his arms around her.
I was shocked almost beyond reaction, still reeling from the sight of such a missed face, but I managed a choked word, "Alcuin." Upon my life I could not have said another, even as I felt his arms around me, warm and welcoming and I surrendered to them. All thoughts of home were momentarily forgotten, lost to the simple joy of being with my friend again.
"It is. I promise you." Alcuin pulled away so that he could look at her, but kept his hands clasped to hers.
"Phedre, where were you? Just now?" He could tell from her disorientation that she must have just arrived, and it was just the sort of fate that seemed tied to the island that would bring her to him firsr.
Pain flared in my hands as he grasped them, the blisters still raw and the bandages only makeshift after my turn at rowing had passed and for a moment, I was lost in the familiar haze. With a deep breath, I pushed it aside, focusing on Alcuin and for the first time seeing differences in a face I had once known better than my own. He looked... older, if that were possible, but questions like that I couldn't ask, not yet, not now. He had questions, he who could never ask again back home, was asking now and there was nothing I could deny him.
"I was at the Temple at Kapporeth, trying to... oh, what does it matter. The god of the Yeshuites must have deemed me most unworthy to simply kill me like this."
Alcuin had been so distracted that he hadn't even noticed her hands, not until he touched them, and then he shifted his hold on her immediately, barely touching, gingerly. He knew why they were injured; he remembered the story well.
"They didn't kill you, Phedre," he said, his voice gentle and quiet. "It will all sound very, very strange, but there is much I need to tell you." How strange, that over five years ago they had had this same conversation, in reverse.
"Then how..." It couldn't be. It simply couldn't be and my normally schooled expression no doubt belied my confusion. How was it possible, if I were alive, to be here with one who died in my arms? My hand trembling, I reached out, touching his face, ignoring the now-obvious differences. This was the brother of my heart, the one who paid most dearly for the games we played all those years ago.
"What kind of magic is this? Have I been cursed, then?" Or had I simply finally lost my mind? The thought had occurred to me; after all, I'd seen religion turn those to madness and visions, and I was but human and confronted with the true nature of a god.
Alcuin slid his hand over hers on his face. He found himself wonder how different he looked.
"Not cursed," he promised, and then led her over to one of the benches. He sat, and pulled her down beside him, thinking it was best she sit for this.
"We are on an island," he said simply. "All the people here, they are pulled out of time and place, and appear here unexpectedly. Some, like me, arrived here at the time of their deaths. Others, like you, did not. Simply pulled from their lives..." He tried to explain in some more detail how people could come from different times, and how their lives seemed to go on without them, but it was a difficult concept to embrace. How people came and went, and sometimes returned, remembering nothing of their time here.
I listened to the tale, each piece more incredible and difficult to believe than the last. Even with the things I'd seen; Hyacinthe, the Master of the Straits, the Sacred Fire of Ahura Mazda, and the priest of Kapporeth, it was still difficult to believe. I was taken, beyond the borders of my very world, away from those who needed me and one who loved me.
"Joscelin." My voice was hoarse as the fatality of it settled in. It was a prison, one that escaping from would be ever more difficult without my beloved Cassiline. And another name, one that rose from my heart with a pain I was only beginning to understand at the time, one that was coming to mean as much to me as Joscelin. "Imriel. What happens to them when I'm not returned, Alcuin? I entered the temple, if I don't return, Joscelin will-" Likely do something rash and deadly.
"You need not worry about that, Phedre," Alcuin said hurriedly. "It seems that... even when someone comes here, their lives continue." This was so, so difficult to explain.
He laid a hand lightly on her leg, comforting. "I told you that sometimes people come here for a time, and then disappear? That they may do so more than once, and remember nothing of it?" He hesitated. "You've been here before, Phedre. You were here when I arrived. You'd come to the island not long after Imriel was born."
"I don't remember, I swear that I don't." And I didn't, I couldn't even begin to comprehend the idea of it. Yet... there was no indication of deception in Alcuin's face, no sign that he didn't believe a word of what he said. To him, it was the absolute truth, and yet it was so long ago. In my current state, it almost felt like centuries.
"I know," said Alcuin gently. "This has happened to me before, with others... coming back, remembering nothing. But it also means that though you were here, your life was lived on as well. You needn't worry about your absence at home."
It was, of course, different for him.
"And Phedre... Imriel is here. Newly arrived, I met him just a couple of weeks ago."
My heart lept at the news, if anything I could keep my word, protect the boy and care for him as best I could. "Thank Elua. Where is he, is he safe?"
Beyond anything else, I owed Imriel that, the opportunity to continue to stretch his experience. I'd seen such an improvement since he stowed away with us, such happiness, and I was loathe to see it cease. Regardless of what I was told about life continuing on, it didn't feel real if it wasn't me.
"He's safe," Alcuin promised him. "He's been living here with me, I had an empty room..." The one that she and Phedre had once occupied. The house had been far too empty for far too long.
He knew from her words, and from her hands, that the point in time she had arrived from was a story he had heard from Imriel - when they sought the name of God. Which meant that she was perhaps ten years older than she had been when she was here before - which, now that he was looking for it, he could see, though it certainly did not diminish her beauty at all.
This also meant that when she'd left Imriel he had been the age of the first boy here on the island. A boy, and not a man.
"He is older than you remember," Alcuin said. "Younger than me, but only by a few years. A man grown. I suspect that you and he will have even more to talk about."
With what Alcuin's already related, the idea of Imriel being grown isn't unheard of, but the reality? I feared the reality would be something completely different to me. In my mind's eye I could only see the little boy who was afraid to cry where someone could see him, who would cling to me after nightmares and who was sly enough to arrange for a duplicate to deceive those he was supposed to be with while he traveled, to allow the deception to go unnoticed longer.
Who would that boy be as a man?
"He is a good, man, isn't he?" I hated myself for asking the question, but I knew Alcuin wouldn't lie. Had life at court hardened him? Had Ysandre given him the love she had promised, or had he grown in the shadow of his mother's treason, apart from the life I hoped he could have? Or was there another option, one I'd hardly considered at the time, one that would keep him from the harder realities of his birth? Or, Elua forbid, had Melisande somehow secreted him away again? "Where was he raised, has he told you that?"
When he neared the temple he was surprised to see a figure already there - particularly a female figure, as he might only have expected Imriel to pay homage to the statue of Elua that resided there.
But as he neared even closer... he realized that he recognized the figure. Even simply seeing her back.
"Phedre?" His voice was nearly a whisper, as he dared not hope.
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A voice that belonged to a dead man, whose final words still haunted me, made me wonder a thousand times, what if...
Turning, my face still stained with my tears I could naught but stare, the realization seeping into my bones. Alcuin. My beautiful Alcuin. Oh, Elua, upon my death I could ask for no better guide to my life after.
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He had been through this before. With James. With Giles. Who had not remembered him. And the way that she was looking at him...
But he was too overwhelmed with joy to think on it for now. He ran forward, and threw his arms around her.
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"Alcuin. Elua, it is you, isn't it?"
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"Phedre, where were you? Just now?" He could tell from her disorientation that she must have just arrived, and it was just the sort of fate that seemed tied to the island that would bring her to him firsr.
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"I was at the Temple at Kapporeth, trying to... oh, what does it matter. The god of the Yeshuites must have deemed me most unworthy to simply kill me like this."
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"They didn't kill you, Phedre," he said, his voice gentle and quiet. "It will all sound very, very strange, but there is much I need to tell you." How strange, that over five years ago they had had this same conversation, in reverse.
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"What kind of magic is this? Have I been cursed, then?" Or had I simply finally lost my mind? The thought had occurred to me; after all, I'd seen religion turn those to madness and visions, and I was but human and confronted with the true nature of a god.
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"Not cursed," he promised, and then led her over to one of the benches. He sat, and pulled her down beside him, thinking it was best she sit for this.
"We are on an island," he said simply. "All the people here, they are pulled out of time and place, and appear here unexpectedly. Some, like me, arrived here at the time of their deaths. Others, like you, did not. Simply pulled from their lives..." He tried to explain in some more detail how people could come from different times, and how their lives seemed to go on without them, but it was a difficult concept to embrace. How people came and went, and sometimes returned, remembering nothing of their time here.
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"Joscelin." My voice was hoarse as the fatality of it settled in. It was a prison, one that escaping from would be ever more difficult without my beloved Cassiline. And another name, one that rose from my heart with a pain I was only beginning to understand at the time, one that was coming to mean as much to me as Joscelin. "Imriel. What happens to them when I'm not returned, Alcuin? I entered the temple, if I don't return, Joscelin will-" Likely do something rash and deadly.
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He laid a hand lightly on her leg, comforting. "I told you that sometimes people come here for a time, and then disappear? That they may do so more than once, and remember nothing of it?" He hesitated. "You've been here before, Phedre. You were here when I arrived. You'd come to the island not long after Imriel was born."
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It was, of course, different for him.
"And Phedre... Imriel is here. Newly arrived, I met him just a couple of weeks ago."
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Beyond anything else, I owed Imriel that, the opportunity to continue to stretch his experience. I'd seen such an improvement since he stowed away with us, such happiness, and I was loathe to see it cease. Regardless of what I was told about life continuing on, it didn't feel real if it wasn't me.
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He knew from her words, and from her hands, that the point in time she had arrived from was a story he had heard from Imriel - when they sought the name of God. Which meant that she was perhaps ten years older than she had been when she was here before - which, now that he was looking for it, he could see, though it certainly did not diminish her beauty at all.
This also meant that when she'd left Imriel he had been the age of the first boy here on the island. A boy, and not a man.
"He is older than you remember," Alcuin said. "Younger than me, but only by a few years. A man grown. I suspect that you and he will have even more to talk about."
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Who would that boy be as a man?
"He is a good, man, isn't he?" I hated myself for asking the question, but I knew Alcuin wouldn't lie. Had life at court hardened him? Had Ysandre given him the love she had promised, or had he grown in the shadow of his mother's treason, apart from the life I hoped he could have? Or was there another option, one I'd hardly considered at the time, one that would keep him from the harder realities of his birth? Or, Elua forbid, had Melisande somehow secreted him away again? "Where was he raised, has he told you that?"
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