The Power of Forgetting (59 page)

There was a
slight noise then, and a door opened. A tall boy came through it.
He was dressed in a pale blue tunic that came down to his knees;
his hair was bronze brown and seemed to be divided into several
braids down his back. He had a honey coloured complexion of one
whose natural colour has been deepened by the sun. On his wrist
were several bands of different colours. There was a strange
mixture in my mind of tribal colour and sun glowed skin, against
the cool almost clinical paleness of the garment. On his feet were
blue pumps. The effect was rather like that of a medical orderly.
He came over to me; his manner assured and calm.

‘Good morning
Tree Man.’ His voice was deep and smooth and calm. It seemed that
he was the one who had lifted me from the ground.

I opened my
mouth, but no words came out.

‘It is alright
oh Man. You are still waiting for the time for voices to come to
you.’ He came beside my bed, ‘Your woman is in a room in the other
wing of this building. We took her to my father. He is a great
healer. He knows the ways of Travellers.’

I still could
not speak; so he continued: ‘I will tell you what I can, as my
Father permits me. When you can; this should be when our cook has
fed you with good things. She is busy, and will come presently. You
strength will return so fast! She will see to it!’

I saw that he
was in fact very young. He reminded me of Andre, the tribesman who
had befriended us in a different place and time, in another world.
He smiled broadly at the mention of their cook. He had obviously
been well fed by this particular lady on many an occasion.

‘I will go and
see if your food is coming.’ He left abruptly. And I was perplexed
by the place now, rather than frightened by it. The strong boy, who
looked in physique like an athletic man seemed without guile. I
felt reassured. The sense of quiet was intense. There was no noise
of machine origin; there was a sense of something bright and fresh,
beyond those walls. Sure enough a little while later, a tall lady
entered. She wore a red cloth tied over her hair, a sort of brick
red dye; natural, I guessed. She had a long tunic of pale yellow
and apron of that same sky blue. She had a pale wooden tray. On
this were items that I could not identity at all; but were clearly
edible.

A little while
later when she had sat by the side and encouraged me to eat with a
few words, I began to feel my strength come back. She broke off a
piece and gave me more of that close grained dark bread that was
quite nutty in flavour. I could feel it doing good to me, as the
young man returned with a white mug on a tray filled with a hot
drink. Curls of fresh steam lifted from it surface. He offered it
to me. I got hold of it and peered at the drink which was pale
reddish brown and opaque. I was really shocked. It appeared to
every perception to be almost exactly like a really good cup of
tea. I took an experimental sip. Incredible! It really was tea! I
was so stunned by the simple reality of something with which I was
familiar and fond of, that it improved my mood enormously. The cook
had left then, making satisfied noises. It seemed my reaction had
pleased her.

‘You do like
this.’ He said, as I carried on sipping at it greedily, ‘would you
like another cup of this drink?’

I nodded
enthusiastically.

I was sat now
in a chair by Janey’s bedside. She was asllep. This was another
annex. And everything in here was pale blue. It suited the mood of
stillness. I found it difficult to walk; so the boy had carried me.
I felt no embarrassment about this. I was glad to be alive. I sat
and waited, as he told me that his father would see me soon after I
had sat awhile with the “Pale Lady” as he called her. I saw her
eyes flicker and for a moment open.

‘Jared…’ she
breathed and smiled. That was enough for me. I could feel the
emotion welling up. We had survived the most dangerous of time
jumps with no preparation. I was about to find out how impossible
what we had seemingly done actually was. Janey slept some more
then, and the boy came and took me to another room I had not seen
before. He made me sit on a long couch with softly padded cushions.
And then a man who appeared to be maybe fortyish came in. he sat
down on the chair nearby and looked at me carefully. He had the
same fine features and but with deep blue green eyes. His hair was
swept back and braided down his back, in a way that I found later
was functional for this work. He had a tunic of a sage green, and
somewhat wide leggings. His slightly paler complexion than his son
suggesting one who spends more time indoors studying that outside
in the spring sun. It became clear from his speech that he was an
educated and knowledgeable man. He did not touch me, and kept well
back on an upright chair. The effect was rather like talking to a
psychiatrist, while sitting on his more than comfortable couch.

‘I am the
director of this facility. My son you have met. And you have
sampled my cook’s repast.’ He waited, so I nodded for him to go
on.

‘We know that
you and the lady are travellers. I realised that this style fo
speech is familiar to you. My son spoke differently when you first
met; as he would with any Outlander. I cannot tell you how I know
just yet; but we can tell from your….residue, that you have found a
way to our time most unusually. The place where you are is called
Amberose. It is a name for this region. There are others. The city
dwellers have their own names for us. We know these but do not use
them ourselves. When we found you we thought perhaps that you had
run away from the city. But we know that it is not possible for the
children of elemental creatures to be from the city. Indeed we are
puzzled as to find out where you have truly come from.’

I wanted to
respond to him; to tell him my name. But I found that in honest
truth I could not: I opened my mouth to speak, and then a thought
flitted in and out as quickly….where in time were we? I had thought
that we were in the past, in some outpost of humanity, but then….I
remembered Janey’s words and felt all the world swirl around.

The man was
watching my face. His expression did not change, but he became very
still as if listening.

It was falling
into place; I knew Janey; I knew her and her predisposition for
danger and risk. Yes; she had saved us… but her taste for adventure
had taken a dangerous turn. I looked at the man who had brought us
into his home. He was waiting for something to happen; then I saw….
and looked at him sharply.

‘I will help
you go back if that is in any way possible beyond today. I think
that you have come to us from the distant past. The way to know
this is to tell you the date of this present era. Perhaps in a
moment. But first you will see something else.’ At this he took
something from his pocket. At first I could not make out what it
was, a small object for sure. Something slightly pearly, with
banding in patterns on its surface, and a curved edge slightly
ridged. He stood and slowly approached me. ‘Hold out your hand.’ He
said, and then carefully tipped it into my palm.

It was
familiar, and from where I came from a common thing, yet I sensed
that this was a moment of significance for both of us.

‘Do you know
what this is?’

I nodded and
glanced at him. He seemed nervous then, and licked his lips. ‘Do
you have these, where you come from?’

I stared at
him, and then nodded again. He looked away, and then back again an
expression of longing on his face, when he spoke again it was
charged with emotion: ‘Do you reach the shore of your land easily?’
for the third time I nodded. He went and sat down again, staring at
the floor.

I still held it
in my hand. That little shell, some small fragment of something
that one might find on many beaches around the coast of England. It
was a rare little piece of proof, for both of us.

‘You have done
something we thought was impossible,’ he said, ‘and you came to us,
just at the time we…. I needed to know that it had been there, long
ago. Otherwise there would be no hope.’

I understood
none of this, yet knew that the knowledge I had of the sea was more
significant than just knowing past history.

‘Yes,’ he said,
‘until now we did not know if our present watch of time had been
overcome completely. But you bring us much needed news. And this is
a good day indeed! For all of us. Your Lady will recover; for it is
within my skill to heal the sickness of your kind.’ At this he
stood, ‘I will tell you more soon. That is enough for now. When you
are ready we can talk together and I can answer some of your
questions. Tomorrow perhaps? My son will return you to your
room.’

A little while
later I lay back on my bed. The light had changed. There was a hint
of peach in the light as it tended towards twilight. And later as
it deepened to pale maroon, I thought of that day; our journey
through time and I saw myself clearly for the first time. It was a
day that had changed my whole world: literally, metaphorically.
That was the day I would dream of in good dreams, and relive in my
nightmares. In the power of forgetting that I was now released from
other things began to reform. And I saw myself standing on the edge
of something terrifying and strange.

I can see the
stars now as they become visible through the skylight. I reached
out a hand as if to touch them. It is all returning now, every
moment, every word. Something is gone and there is no place to
hide.

I reached out,
but they are far away.

I try to call
out to someone, and this time I can form the words:

‘I remember!’ I
cried, and in the silence the visions of the past; the future;
things that may be were my only answer.