Idris simply held her hands out for her again. Karigan started to protest, but Lhean said, “Hold, Galadheon. This will not hurt your friend, but bring her joy.”
Estral took Idris’ hands, and both closed their eyes once more. Lhean and Enver hummed again. A pale golden light coalesced between Estral and Idris, intensifying and then diminishing until it was gone, and Karigan wondered if she’d actually seen it. Whatever was happening did not take long this time. The humming abruptly ended, and Idris let go of Estral’s hands and watched her expectantly. Estral looked confused.
“Try speaking, little cousin,” Lhean said.
Estral glanced at him with a flash of anger and reached for her slate.
“No,” Lhean said, unperturbed. “Please try.”
Estral opened her mouth. Closed it. Cleared her throat, and said, “I—” She clapped her hands to her mouth, eyes wide. Then she tried again. “I can’t—I can’t believe it—I have a voice again!”
“What did you do?” Karigan asked Idris.
Idris was smiling, but it was Lhean who spoke. “Idris has transferred her voice to Lady Estral. It will sound mostly like Lady Estral’s voice, but with a little of Idris. But you must be aware the transfer will eventually fade. It could be a few months, or it could be many.”
“This is remarkable.” A tear streaked down Estral’s cheek. It did indeed sound like her, but with an overtone reminiscent of Idris. Karigan was so pleased for her friend she felt tears in her own eyes. It was about time something went right.
“Your musicality may return, too,” Lhean said, “but that is more difficult. You must nurture it.”
“I will. Thank you. I mean, this goes beyond thanking. Is Idris without her voice? It is a sacrifice . . .”
Idris said, in a soft whisper, “It is not entirely gone, and any sacrifice is worth seeing your joy.”
“Galadheon,” Lhean said, “might we go someplace where there will be no interruption?”
She led him back to her chamber. She hoped her family would not suddenly show up, but there really wasn’t any other place she could claim for privacy. She closed the door behind her and faced him. His gaze appeared to follow drafts upon the air. He reached out as if to touch them.
“This is a restless place,” he said.
“I don’t sleep well,” she replied.
“It is no surprise. They are attracted to you.”
“They? Do you mean the ghosts?”
His gaze became unfocused, his blue eyes like the turmoil of ocean waves. She’d seen a similar look in the gazes of other Eletians, and she wondered if he was on the verge of saying something prophetic, but his eyes focused on her once more, like a door closed. She shuddered despite herself.
“Yes,” he said, “kings and queens, courtiers and servants, soldiers and laborers, all with tales to tell. Remember, you have the command of them.”
“What do—”
Lhean raised his hand to silence her. “I know why you have been wishing to see me.”
Karigan wavered with the abrupt change of topic. Conversing with Eletians could be like riding a wild horse, highly unpredictable. “You do?”
“Your heart is not difficult to read, Galadheon. Would you reveal your eye to me?”
“Is that necessary?” She crossed her arms. What did it have to do with anything?
“No,” he replied.
“Then, why?”
“It may be useful.”
Karigan could not hold back her irritation. “I wanted to know what you remembered about the future time—about Cade.”
“Like you, alas, very little. The threads shifted when we returned. We cannot remember what has not yet happened.”
She had heard this Eletian circularity before. “I know.” It almost came out as a shout. “But it did happen, we were there.”
“Yes.”
“Please, don’t you remember anything?”
“I saw but little of your Cade in the end. I recall that there was fighting, and that he was unable to come with us. But yes, Galadheon, he was there in that thread of the future, and your grief is not without foundation.”
Lhean stepped forward, and she stood mesmerized as he, without asking, slipped the patch off her eye. She did not protest, did not stop him, and did not know why not. She could not see out of her mirror eye, for mirror it was, a final jest of the mirror man, a being of unknown origin and power. When in Blackveil, she had crossed into a place between the layers of the world where the mirror man had tested her, given her three masks from which to choose and wear, each representing some role. There’d been a queen’s mask, very tempting for what she might have and could not otherwise claim; a black mask of malevolent power; and a green mask the hue of her Rider uniform.
She rejected them all. She did not wear masks, and she refused to be stuck in a role, even that of the green one, but the mirror man would not release her until she chose, so being clever, she pointed at the looking mask that he wore. He released her then.
She’d not been so clever after all. As it turned out, the mask had been left for her in the nexus of Castle Argenthyne, and she’d shattered it to keep its power out of the hands of Mornhavon the Black. The shattering sent her and Lhean into Sacoridia’s dark future, where she met, and fell in love with, Cade. The shards of the looking mask, however, followed her through time, through the starry heavens and all the way back to her present where a piece had lodged in her eye, turning it into a mirror, a living looking mask.