I shake my sister’s hands, trying to snap her out of it. ‘Please,’ I say under my breath, ‘wake up. I need you. What were the orders?’
Nothing. Like talking to a living, breathing statue. I let go of her, unsure what to do next.
Then, something. The tiniest tug on my cloak. Once, twice, three times, each time a little stronger. Her little private earthquake. Helene is fighting Shepherd’s influence, timidly, but enough. Showing me, without words; reminding me of our fight when I tried to escape that night. When we fought for my cloak …
Could this be it? Could Clotho have woven me a weapon against Shepherd? And what about Anassa’s cloak, then? Is that a weapon too? How could a cloak kill a goddess?
So many questions churn in my head, all of them unable to create concrete answers. And the main one, the question that’s been weighing on my heart since I crossed over from Gruoch’s world: what happened to Anassa? Did she ever make it back with us? Did Shakespeare?
‘Anassa will be saved. If you do as I say.’
A thought, spoken inside my mind, but not mine. Shepherd’s.
‘That key your sister gave you. The one you must have stolen from me, when you dared to grab me – on your first day here, no less. Take it and leave us. Go back to where you came from.’
Stole from her? I shake my head, as if to stop the words from forming. How is she doing this? I can see her talking, out loud, telling her subjects tall tales about how the evil forces of this world tried to destroy us, about how she’s expending all her power to keep the structure from collapsing. I recall the vision she gave me, back at the pool, of an endless desert and her the only thing keeping the world from running dry, the wraiths from winning. This is not the first time she has rummaged around in my mind. She’s not even the first goddess to do so.
And if it worked with Clotho …
No, don’t think of Clotho, of my key’s true origin – let Shepherd think I stole from her. If she can’t see the Moirai’s plans, there may yet be a chance to win this fight.
Make me, I think at Shepherd, really loudly.
There, a flinch, a twitch of those fig-coloured lips. I can reach her just as she can reach –
A deafening roar knocks me off my feet. My ears are ringing; I grab my skull to make it stop. Something hot and wet drips from my earlobes. Blood.
‘You gnat. Stay still and don’t talk back, unless you want your brain to burst like a pomegranate.’
An image of my husband’s head, its contents spilled on the floor like ruby seeds, flashes before my eyes.
‘Good. Now we have an understanding,’ Shepherd continues in my thoughts. ‘You have destabilized this world since you got here. I know you think this is a prison, that I’m a despot, but lookaround you. These people need me. These poor stories, from so many different cultures, languages, time eras, so many characters that keep appearing here … It used to be much simpler, when I was first given this world to guard. So little was written, back then …’
Her voice breaks, and for a blessed moment, my thoughts are mine alone. She’s struggling to maintain order in this world, Shakespeare told us as much.
Damn it, don’t think of Shakespeare, don’t think of Anassa.
‘Things have changed so much,’ the voice continues. ‘These greedy humans keep creating, stories upon stories upon stories … So I set up a system. A way to keep the population stable. Some stories stay, until I can find a way to mould them into something more palatable, until I can find an author who can be inspired by them, instead of crafting something new. Only when I feel that’s done, the stories are bestowed a key and their door appears. They can leave, get a second chance at life, a second telling by that author’s pen. It all worked adequately, with only minor problems. Nothing I couldn’t handle, with some sacrifices. Until you two showed up, and the tremors started. And now look what you’ve done, coming and going as you please, fraternizing with stories that shouldn’t be yours to touch, making the ground shake with your tantrums. This mess is all your fault. Fix it.LEAVE!’ The last word is so deafening, I fall to my knees.
Why do you think, I push back, my eyes burning with the effort, my vision blurring,that I will ever do as you say?
She leaves me hanging for a moment, while she wraps up her other speech, the one given out loud to her audience, and stands up. I manage to stand up too, to see what’s happening. The crowd parts briefly, and I catch a bundle of black skirts next to Shepherd’s feet.
Anassa – no, Gruoch.
My heart thunders so much, everyone must surely hear it.
‘Because,’ Shepherd drags out the word like she’s skinning live prey with her teeth. ‘You walking out that door will restore my power. And I’ll be able to keep your sister alive. Give those poor souls another chance. And most importantly, I’ll be able to rescue Anassa from the chaos magic that consumes her. Tell me, have you noticed she’s turned into a flock of birds, lately?’
The sarcasm stings, but so does the truth.Is she all right? Will she be … back to herself?
‘I’m working on it, as we speak. But things will go much faster if you remove yourself from the equation. Trust me, your presence is grating. Can’t you see how the world shakes?’
I would laugh if I still had any strength left.If you think I can trust you –
‘Do. Or do not, and watch them all die.’
A rumble, then, shaking everything. ‘Another earthquake,’ someone yelps in front of me.
