Then I threw off my net of stones and tangled rope and knocked on the door. “We’ve done it, Clementine,” I said to her. “We’ve returned.”
Sam: Residues
Understand that there is no written history in the realm. What history exists has been passed from spirit to spirit. Everything a spirit knows about the realm has been communicated to her by the other spirits around her.
—Wister Amsel,A True Account of Explorations in the Realm
Tuesday, September 18, 1888
We tumbled into Keel House, and I closed the door to the spirit realm behind us: shutting out the Oarings and the scree; the aimless, endless drifting; the vast, yawning sense that my soul was starving for sustenance it would never receive. They were all behind me now.
We were in the kitchen. I stood there, half carrying Clementine, stunned by the realization that I’d truly arrived. A half circle of astonished faces surrounded us in the flickering light of two lamps: Wister, Gertie, and Meg. For a moment, I was so overwhelmed by the physical experience of returning to the living world that I forgot about everything else. Each sensation was magnified to a point of overwhelming intensity. The sweet, yellow light of the lamps. The smell of the kitchen—lemon, onion, and the lingering scent of baked bread. Alongside it, the tang of silver polish and the smoky air left by a smoldering fireplace. And the colors! The rich red of the tile, the ochre and indigo and cream of the women’s dresses, the gorgeous green of the potted herbs on the broad kitchen table. I’d never seen such beautiful pots! Mirrors of shining copper hanging from the overhead rack. I hadmissedthis. How I’d missed it! Thewondrous, marvelous living world. I felt sudden tears in my eyes.
Clementine stumbled. Recalling myself, I tightened my arm around her waist and caught her, just in time. “Please,” I said to Wister. “She’s exhausted.”
Wister stepped forward quickly. “Meg,” she said. They each took an arm and hoisted her gently. “The lilac room,” Wister instructed. I followed as they carried her a short distance out of the kitchen, down the corridor, and into a small bedroom with lilac wallpaper. They placed her on the neatly made bed. Then Gertie bustled forward to gently remove the iron boots and the chain mail shirt. Everything was wet, as if Clementine had just come in from the rain: the boots pooled water on the floor, the chain mail was slick with condensation, and Clem’s hair had soaked the pillow. Gertie turned Clementine on her side, first one way and then the other, to pull the chain mail up and over her head. Clem’s eyes did not even flicker, but I could see her breathing and, even more, I could feel her thoughts.
What a wonder, to feel thoughts! As I looked at Clem, a swirl of impressions appeared to me effortlessly, as clearly as if she were speaking them aloud: stones, more stones; a terrible sense of cold; desperation and horror. She was recalling the spirit realm, though imprecisely: through her thoughts the realm was distorted, dominated by the sensation of cold. The awareness of warmth slowly began to expand in her mind, like spilled ink spreading out onto a sheet of paper.
I found that I was kneeling by the side of the bed, and my hand rested on Clem’s tousled hair. The others had drawn back and were watching me. As I turned to look at them, I realized that their thoughts were also there, utterly plain to me, if I only focused my attention purposefully upon them. Gertie’s mind was a tangle of concern over Clem. Meg, smiling, was contemplatingmy person in a manner that at first confused me and then became clear: apparently, she found me handsome. I blinked, embarrassed, and considered Wister. She, too, was regarding me, but with rather different sentiments: suspicion and doubt.
I stood up and gave a small bow. “Thank you for helping us,” I said. “My name is Samuel May.” There was a moment’s silence as they took this in.
“You’re not Rosetta,” Meg observed pointedly.
“Yes,” I acknowledged. “Rosetta was no longer in the realm. Clementine has brought me back instead to be her thew. Together, we aim to find the enchanter who has taken Rosetta.”
Wister frowned. “Do you mean to say that another man has already bound her spirit?”
“I’m afraid that this is the entire purpose of the stoning deaths, of which there have been several. Women have been murdered precisely so that they can be taken as thews.” Gertie gasped, and all their thoughts were overshadowed by horror. “The enchanters who have done this are also responsible for my death. That’s why I’m here. Our purpose, mine and Clementine’s, is the same.”
Wister’s suspicion faded and she now looked at me with greater interest. “So then you wished to become a thew.”
“I did.”
“When did you pass into the spirit realm?”
“In April—almost five months ago.”
“Quite recently.”
“By some measure. And yet, in those short months, the Cisneros Society has ruined many more lives.” A motion from the bed caught my eye, and I turned to look at Clementine. “She’ll need at least a few days to recover,” I said. “Can she stay here?”
Wister pondered this. “She may, of course, but this house is filled with residues. This room and two others are less populatedthan others. Perhaps we can ensure that she remains here for a spell until the residues clear.”
“I’ll look after her,” I said. Not that she faced any danger from the residents of Keel House, but I would not leave her side.
I turned to Wister. “When morning comes, there’s someone we must speak to—Constable Maxwell. The man investigating Rosetta’s death.”
Wister gave me an odd look, but she did not object. “I’ll send for him at sunrise.”
In the little lilac bedroom at Keel House, I watched over Clem, attentive to any signs of distress, noticing the dreams that flitted through her mind like kaleidoscopic visions. After some two hours a dreamless stillness fell upon her, and I worried that she’d taken a turn for the worse. But her body, at least, had begun to restore itself. Her fingers were warm, her face no longer looked bloodless, and her breathing had steadied. I felt easier in my mind.
And I felt easier in my body. I felt no exhaustion or physical strain, no hunger or sleepiness; I didn’t even feel the discomfort in my knees that would naturally arise from kneeling beside the bed for long stretches of time. My spirit body was quite unencumbered. I also discovered, by attempting to extinguish the candle on the bedside table, that I was impervious to flame.
There were some benefits to returning as a thew.
At five in the morning, there was a light tap on the door, and Wister let herself into the lilac bedroom. “How is she?” she asked in a whisper.
