Curse of Sight 2 – Walking by Sight
“’Walking by Sight’,” Devon read the title aloud as he flopped onto his bed at last. Merona had spent the afternoon and most of the evening with him and his family, becoming familiar with his parents and the layout of the house. She had only left moments ago, with the excuse that she was getting tired and that it would soon be dark. Devon knew better than to think that was a concern to her, and was more than a little surprised that she’d let him out of her sight at all after Husk’s instructions, but he wasn’t about to complain about having his privacy back. As soon as the door had closed behind her, he’d made a similar excuse to his parents and skittered off to his room...after his mother called him back to hand him the “gift from Aunt Emby” he’d left on the coffee table.
The little Mouse had almost been afraid to open the worn and fading cover. “‘An Autobiography by Thervis Brighteyes’,” he finished the subtitle before flipping over to the first actual page, “I wonder if that was someone important.” And by “was”, he meant “at some point in history”. The cover alone looked at least a century old. What Devon really wondered was whether he’d be able to read it at all, either because the language might be unfamiliar or because the style might be so dry it would put him to sleep.
“Ah!” a voice as faint as a whisper seemed to speak excitedly from out of the book, “This book is unique in all the world, the only non-grimoire ever penned by The Traitor, and — !”
“THE TRAITOR?!” Devon tossed the book across the room and bolted upright in his bed, as if just realizing he’d been handling a deadly viper and was afraid it might yet slither back under the covers with him. “I can’t read that!!”
“Well why in the world not, young man?” asked the faint voice again, and Devon realized it was coming from his own left hand (you know, after his good senses began to return to him).
Staring at his empty palm, it took him another second to place a face with the voice...such as it was. “...Globert?” the Mouse asked hesitantly, like he was beginning to doubt his sanity again.
“Of course,” the voice answered, and the claw of Devon’s left little finger turned a bright shade of blue for a second, “Merona left a dollop of me with you before she went, in case we should be needed. She can’t very well move in without some very strong excuse, after all. That drop is much too small to mimic any meaningful visuals on your side, but I can relay her voice to you and yours to her well enough, so you may converse or ask questions as you like.”
“‘Mimic’,” Devon echoed, laying back on his bed again and staring at his little claw, “So you really just repeat what’s said to you by someone else. Is there any way to tell if you were putting words in their mouth?” He was only thinking out loud, but as soon as said it Devon feared he’d made a terrible mistake...
Globert was silent for a few seconds, but Devon’s claw flashed a bright, neon red in response, and the slime’s voice was cold when it finally answered, “You are young, and that is the only reason I will forgive the insinuation this once. If you ever again suggest I would be party to such a deception, I will digest this finger. Now,” the tiny bit of slime wrenched the conversation back to the original topic, “Kindly explain why you would not be able to read a book the master gifted to you from his very. Precious. Library.”
Devon swallowed the lump of fear in his throat. “...I’m sorry.”
“And I forgive you,” Globert assured him with finality, “Now explain.”
“I mean — not saying you’re lying — we don’t even know his name anymore, so it only scares me because I believe you,” Devon shook his head, removing his glasses so he could rub his palm over his eyes, “But if that book is by The Traitor...isn’t it, like, illegal to even have the thing?! I can’t read something like that! He deceived a whole kingdom, didn’t he? All the greatest minds of his age?”
“Calm down,” the slime sighed, recognizing it was at least partially to blame for the young Mouse’s panic, “Firstly, you’re giving the man too much credit. You are right in that he deceived everyone at the time who mattered, but he wasn’t much known outside Heartherra’s royal court in his own day, and then only as the court jester. Secondly, no king or president in Heartherra’s history has yet been so foolish as to place a ban on knowledge. Your country has historically taken great pride in that — however much some high-ranking members of its society have frowned on certain facts being passed down through the years. So no, you are at no risk of penalty.” After a moment, Globert did admit, “Though it might be unwise to make your parents aware you’re reading such material.”
“I can’t,” Devon repeated, more a plea than in insistence this time, “I get that it’s valuable, so I’m happy to give it back. Why would Husk even give me something like that?”
“Because The Traitor is one of very few individuals throughout history who is known to have possessed The Sight,” the bit of slime suggested, “And quite arguably the one who most thoroughly mastered its uses, as he did a variety of wizardries and sorceries. For your information, there are only three people who could be considered his peers in magic. The first is the Queen of Amunet herself, a sorceress whose full capabilities are as much a speculation as her age and appearance. The second is now known best as ‘Grandfather Pheonix’, a centuries-old practitioner of wizardry before he pulled his Kinship back from the brink of extinction. And the last is our master. Despite his comparatively few years, the jester Brighteyes stood firmly in their ranks, possibly even the greatest of them at the time, and is the only one of the four who possessed The Sight. So he is the undisputed expert on the subject, and anything he chose to share in that book will be nothing short of a treasure to you.”
Devon’s stomach churned. But he didn’t dare question the slime a second time...and frankly, he was so far in over his head that he couldn’t question anything at the moment. So, still looking at the book like a coiled viper, he reluctantly crawled out of his bed, hesitantly picked it up, and turned the first page with trembling fingers...
It wasn’t as dry as he feared. Being a jester must have given...the author (Devon tried hard not to remember whose biography he was reading)...an appreciation for the art of story-telling. But it was mundane, downright menial, as he described what it was like to grow up under loving but impoverished parents on the outskirts of Heartherra’s royal capital. The anecdotes were entertaining enough (Devon supposed a jester ought to know how to put humor to good use), but the rest was so dull the little Mouse’s eyes began to water with the effort of dragging them across the pages.
It was actually a relief to see “Adolescence – the Second Stage” greet his eyes from the top of the facing page in a decorative script as he turned the latest one over. Figuring that would make a justifiable stopping point for the night, Devon mustered his will to finish the concluding paragraphs on the author’s childhood. But as his eyes swam down that page in his tiring efforts to drag them back to the one he was actually reading, something between the ink caught them — and Devon was suddenly terrifyingly awake again.
“Globert,” he whispered, trying hard to hold stock-still despite the tremble he could feel running up his spine, “There’s a snake in my book.” That was the closest description he could give it. Coiled up in a little knot in the center of the page, distorting the ink like a badly shaped chunk of calcite, was something thin and sinuous, with four long slits that somehow seemed to focus on him like eyes, and the triangular head typical of vipers. Most concerning were the long pair of hanging letter-tails, hooked into a very clear semblance of fangs.
There was a tense second before he was answered, and it was Merona’s voice that spoke up from his claw behind the book: “Oh, even ah know that line!” Emby giggled, “Law, it’s been years since ah saw a movin’ picture, though—!”
“No!” Devon hissed as sharply as he dared, “There’s really a snake! Help!”
“...Stop reading,” Merona’s tone changed immediately, calm but deathly serious, “But don’t close the book, and don’t turn the page. Any one of those actions is likely to trigger the spell.”
The first part was easy. He could hardly make out the words behind the creature now that his eyes had adjusted to it. The temptation to slam the book shut was a lot harder to resist, though. “Why is there a spell on this page?!” the little Mouse squeaked quietly, “What’s it going to do?”
“Stay. Calm. We’re going to disarm it before anything else,” Bibi insisted coldly, “Now listen closely to the sound I’m about to make and imitate it as closely as you can. And don’t take your eyes off the book.”
No worries in that regard. Devon couldn’t bring himself to separate his eyes from the tiny serpent. He listened carefully as Merona whistled an off-key tune. The sound seemed to put strange sights into his head, weirdly abstract visuals of black and red, but he concentrated on hearing the notes and committing them to memory. It was longer than he would have liked, when she was finished, but Devon carefully whistled it back to her as well as he was able. Merona corrected him, whistling back the notes he got wrong, until he was able to get all the way through the strange sound without (apparently) any flaws.
“Good,” the Rattler hissed through Globert, “Now, while you’re whistling, wave your hand slowly across the page, like you’re trying to wipe something off from it.”
Adjusting his grip on the book carefully, Devon freed his right hand and swallowed as many of his nerves as he could stuff down his throat. Then he began to whistle, dragging his hand through the air above the book...well above the book, where he hoped the movement wouldn’t spook the serpentine creature his eyes were still glued to. His heart nearly stopped when it seemed to respond by opening its mouth a little wider and flexing its fangs. “I don’t think it’s working,” the poor boy whimpered.
“Too high, boy,” Globert suggested, “Keep your hand just above the page, though not touching it. You’re wiping out the spell, not fanning away smoke.”
Devon felt close to fainting just at the thought, and his eyes were starting to ache from staring at the distorted creature for so long. “But...if I do that...I’ll touch the snake...”
“Look, kid,” Merona’s voice spoke through the slime again, “I don’t know anything about ‘book-snakes’, but there are several kinds of spells a wizard might put on a book to guard its contents. We’re starting with the easiest one, and this is how you dispel it. As long as you don’t finish reading past the guarded line and don’t take your eyes off the page, it won’t trigger, but you can’t sit there just staring at a page for the rest of the night.”
His hand trembled as he tried again, this time passing his hand much lower over the page. He couldn’t resist raising it just a little before it touched the distorted outline. His nerves wouldn’t hold. And he was sure his poor heart had reached its limit when the creature on the page rose up to close the gap between its back and his hand.
It brushed its head against his palm, slowly arching its body to drag every inch of its back lightly against his skin as his hand passed slowly over it. Devon’s ability to whistle failed as his chin fell slack before he’d quite finished the tune. Opposite his reaction, the tiny serpent seemed to fold up its fangs. When he didn’t move or speak for several seconds, Merona prompted, “Alright, how does it look? Is the snake gone?”
Devon shook his head and wet his lips. “Not yet. It didn’t work. But...I think I’ve got it now,” he suggested like he couldn’t quite believe it himself. Moving his hand to one side of the page again, he began to whistle. His hand passed lower this time, and slower, and it was less like wiping something from the page and much more like very slowly, very carefully, petting the snake.
If he didn’t know better, he would swear it nuzzled him. It leaned into the brief petting and once again pressing its back against his hand as if to encourage the contact. As Devon’s hand moved off the edge of the page, the little creature seemed to flatten out until it vanished, and once again there was only a plain page in front of Devon’s eyes. He fell back on his pillow with a deep sigh, relieving the ache of tension through his whole body that had come from sitting in that hunch for so long. “Gods forgotten...that was a spell? What would have happened if it bit me?”
“I’m assuming so,” he could practically hear the shrug in Merona’s voice, like she couldn’t care less what it had been, “And that depends a lot on the wizard. Kinder ones will usually set a spell to blind the reader, or put them to sleep for a while. Master has quite a few that will kill you...and that’s still kinder than what some wizards set.”
Devon gnashed his teeth, trying hard not to imagine which fate he’d just narrowly avoided. He started to bring his hand to his face, to rub his poor, dry eyes...but as his fingers slid from the page they’d come to rest on, he felt something else slide over them and up his arm. His tired eyes flew open again, just in time to see the little black-and-white serpent spring from his forearm right at his face!
Naturally, he flinched. And, more embarrassingly, screamed. He even slapped his own face, trying to intercept the snake and fling it away, succeeding only in knocking his glasses off his own nose. But his hands couldn’t find it, and he never felt it land, and when he dared to open his eyes again the serpent was nowhere in sight.
His mother was at the door before he could question where it might have gone, dressed in her pajamas and looking a mix of concerned and annoyed, “Devon, dear, what’s the matter?”
The little Mouse’s face hurt with the effort of keeping his lingering panic off of it as he tried to look sleepy. “Uh...s-sorry, Mom. I was...just...reading a scary book,” he explained, quickly closing the book on his bed and clutching to his chest, hiding the title behind his arms.
His mother frowned for a moment, then sighed. “Don’t give yourself nightmares, dear. It’s already late,” she reminded him. Thankfully it was summer break, or Devon would have been in serious trouble for staying up this late.
Quickly tucking the book under his bed near the headboard, where he used to keep his comic collection, Devon nodded firmly. “I’m done now. Good night.”
“Good night,” his mother answered, and reached over to flick the switch to turn off the light. When the door closed, Devon flopped limply onto his pillow...
—————
“What was that about?” Merona asked as she slithered between the trees. She had left her dress and bonnet hanging from the hook of her parasol, tucked high in a tree near the foot of the mountain now that the sun was long set. They made great protection from daylight, but were highly impractical for exploring the wooded and rocky terrain of the mountains. A simple chemise of sturdy cotton served her better here.
“I don’t know,” Globert answered from around her neck, where the bulk of him was now coiled like some gelatinous muffler, “Something seemed to startle him, but I couldn’t see what. And I’m pretty sure he actually fainted when his mother left, but he’s otherwise healthy, and now asleep. It has been a taxing day for a man of his age.”
“Tell me about it,” the Rattler rolled her slitted eyes — then shook her head briskly as an easy smile crooked up her lips. “Land’s sake, it’s been a long time since we had this much excitement,” Emby mused, “Thanks for takin’ care o’ him, Bibi.”
“On that note: are you sure it is wise to stray so far from him?” Globert asked as they wound their way further up the mountain and into the territory of the park. “He takes priority over investigating the witch at this point. What if something like whatever he saw at the apartment comes around again?”
Merona nodded agreement, but argued, “He’s sound asleep in his own bed. Ah don’t blame him fo’ bein’ skittish, but master said he’s in no mo’a danger than he eve’ was. Second priorities a’e still priorities.” And, though Merona would never admit it aloud, she quietly relished these opportunities to move so freely. She had to be careful how she slithered when wearing her dress, or she’d drag the hem of the skirt under her scales. Leaves and pine-needles and the cool roughness of natural rock also felt much nicer against her long belly than the hot pavement of cities or towns.
“Be that as it may,” Globert began to protest gently before interrupting himself: “— The master would like a word with you.”
She stopped in her tracks, tilting her head curiously. It was rare to hear from her master between her regularly scheduled reports, and she couldn’t remember if she’d ever heard from him two nights in a row. “Well o’ course,” the Rattler agreed, coiling up right where she was and bowing humbly to the effigy of Husk that Globert stretched out in front of her.
“Good evening, Merona,” the Rooster greeted with a much more subtle bow, “It is late there now. I trust the young man remains safe and resting at this hour. Has he encountered anything...concerning...since I left you last night?”
“Twice, master: some sort o’ creature outside ou’ apartment this mornin’...ah neglected t’ ask him fo’ details,” she admitted with a wince, “An’ some sort o’ snake in the book you gifted him. Did you know the’e was a spell on it?”
Husk nodded curtly. “Naturally. I put it there. Though I am doubtful the blindness could affect his eyes for long. So, he saw it before it triggered, and described it as a snake?”
His subordinate couldn’t keep the surprise off her face, though part of that surprise was at the fact she was surprised. Her master’s motives had never been easy to read, to say nothing of his tactics. “He did, an’ Bibi guided him through dispellin’ it. Ah...didn’t realize ah’d need to protect him from you, master,” she admitted dubiously.
The Rooster’s frown deepened, and his cockscomb raised. “That may prove more troublesome than you yet realize,” he warned in a low tone. “Brace yourself, Merona. The task I have set you may well put us at odds, if done honestly. Your integrity will be thoroughly tested.” The questions were clear in his underling’s eyes, and she only failed to voice them out of indecision about whether asking for clarification or denying that she could ever be at odds with him should be the higher priority at the moment. Husk raised a hand to forestall both. “Before another word is said: he is well asleep, correct? And not in the room with you?”
Merona quickly shook her head. “Ah’m not even in the house, master. Ah was jus’ on mah way to pick up whe’e ah left off lookin’ for that witch’s restin’ place, if’n it still exists at all.”
Her master’s frown finally convinced her she should have listened to Globert. “Let me be very clear, Merona: I want you, at all times, to be near enough to that boy to lay a hand on him by the time he finishes screaming your name. Bring him along on your business if you wish, but if you cannot — even if that witch is on the move again, or the woman in that town starts to exert her real power, or I myself move to kill him while you cannot condone it — protecting that boy is your first and highest concern. Do you understand?”
Merona’s chin fell slack. “...No, master, ah don’t. Why — nevermindin’ how — would ah ever go against you on his account?”
“Because I might be wrong,” the Rooster sneered, as though loathe to admit himself capable of such a thing. “The last time this world knew a Mouse with The Sight, it was none other than The Traitor himself, and I don’t need to tell you how badly that ended. And the timing is suspicious, given the ripening conditions in that part of the world over the next few years.”
“...Not that ah’d dare to doubt you after all these decades, master,” the Rattler admitted as she pressed a hand to her brow, as though she was developing a headache, “But a’e you really sayin’ that boy’s Thervis Brighteyes? Reincarnate? It’s only Dragons an’ some very powe’ful magicians as can do that, isn’t it?”
“And just who was the greatest magician of his age?” Husk snarled. But he had to agree, “It is exceedingly rare, though not unheard of. More to the point: aside from the Dragons, no soul ever returns to mortality without a very compelling reason. That is why I am concerned, and also why I may be wrong.” He sounded strangely like he was trying to comfort her with that admission, though the thought of her master being uncertain of anything was terrifying to her in its own way. “So I want you close to him. Watch him. Keep me appraised of any goals or desires he expresses to you. Guide him as best you can. If he is not The Traitor reborn, then that power of his will be no end of torment to him, and there are none presently alive who can mentor him properly. Worse still, there are many enemies to our Order that will seek to recruit him for that power when he is discovered. You absolutely must prevent that.”
The Rooster’s voice dropped low and turned icy cold as he loomed nearer to the Rattler, forcing her to lean back on her coils (though she could hardly escape, given Husk’s image was being formed by the slime around her own neck). “And if I become convinced that he is The Traitor reborn, I will destroy him. Personally. In that event, you are his one and only hope of survival, if you have not been as thoroughly convinced as I am. It is precisely because the situation is so vague, so risky, and I myself so prone to seeing the worst outcomes before they are made certain, that I am setting you as a safe-guard. Our Order is sworn to protect all mortals from the malicious supernatural. Inevitably — eventually — that will mean me.”
“...‘At’s a right mighty tall order yer settin’, master,” Merona whispered, as captive in his burning eyes as Devon had been in hers when they first met.
“I am aware.” The effigy drew back, as though Husk had taken a step away. “Now make haste, and may The Lion bless the night around you. Good night, Merona.” He started to turn away, and Globert withdrew the protrusion back into himself.
Merona wasted no time. The slits of her eyes narrowed until they were nearly invisible, and her tail rattled loudly as dozens of her scales flexed outward, thinning and stretching themselves into wide, sharp-edged wings. It was a mercy to all sane minds that there were no eyes out here to witness her graceless flight back to the foot of the mountain. Having retrieved her clothes, the vampire swam through the sky too high for most mortal eyes to see in the dead of night, right up until she dropped like a stone into a certain back-yard...
—————
A soft but sharp hiss pulled Devon out of a dreamless bliss. “Hssst...Devon,” a raspy voice whispered, “Y’alright? Hssst—”
The sound hit some deep, primordial part of his brain, and jagged shapes in red and black swam through his vision even behind his closed eyelids. “Snake!!” Devon bolted up so fast he nearly smashed his face into Merona’s.
She caught his shoulder with one hand and his muzzle in the other, forcing his mouth closed again. “Shhh! It’s jus’ me!” the Rattler assured him quickly, looking almost as shocked as Devon was, “You screamed befo’e, so ah came to check on ya. What happened?”
She waited until he’d stopped hyperventilating to let go of his mouth, when he seemed to have a clear idea of where he was and who he was talking to again. But the first voice to speak came from the still open door: “What’s going on in here?” Mr. Whipwire asked sleepily.
Devon and Merona’s eyes both snapped to him, and Merona’s pupils narrowed. “He’s still asleep,” the Snake hissed quietly, “Jus’ talkin’ in his sleep, all alone. A bad dream.”
Mr. Whipwire yawned, and rubbed his own sleepy eyes. “Mm...must be a bad dream,” he muttered seemingly to himself, then quietly closed the door.
“...You mustn’t keep doing that to his family,” Globert grumbled from around Merona’s neck, “You’ll turn them into suggestible simpletons if you keep it up. Now, what happened, young man?”
“Cheese, you two almost scared the life out of me!” Devon sighed, flopping back on his pillow again, “What time is it, even?”
“Oh, ‘bout two in the mornin’,” Merona answered. He seemed well enough to her, if that was his chief concern. She almost felt bad for waking him up.
“Two in the —?!” Devon rubbed his palms over both of his aching eyes, “Can you please just turn the light off and let me get some sleep? I’m exhausted. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”
Merona was already pulling his blanket back up to his chin for him, about to agree to that without a qualm, when his words struck her. “Devon...the light ain’t on, shuga,” she cocked her head in fresh concern.
Devon peeked one eye out from behind his hands. The switch on the wall was definitely in the “off” position, and a quick glance at the clock on his nightstand confirmed Merona’s claim about the time...but if both of those things were true, there was no way he should be able to see well enough to tell. The whole room was lit up like it was already late morning, though.
Merona loomed closer as he glanced around, catching his chin to focus his attention on her. “You’a’ eyes a’e shinin’ mighty bright,” she noted, “Literally shinin’.”
The little Mouse blinked a couple of times. Something moved in the corner of his vision, and the tiny black-and-white viper reached out, seemingly from just beside his left eye, to hiss disapprovingly at Merona. She never flinched, or even seemed aware of the thing, though Devon tensed up. Having expressed its opinion, it coiled back across the little Mouse’s eyes, and vanished from his sight entirely.
“...Oh forgotten gods,” Devon muttered, staring slack-jawed into Merona’s eyes again, “Do you think...that’s where it went?” He quickly and quietly told the vampire and the slime exactly what had happened after disarming the protective spell. He’d thought (more like desperately hoped) the snake had disappeared after that, but now...
Merona laid her hand over his eyes, closing them and pushing his head back and down onto his pillow. “Is it bright enough to keep you up?”
The exhausted mouse shook his head slowly. “No. It’s plenty dark with my eyes closed,” he admitted with no small amount of relief.
“Good. Then get some sleep,” Merona urged, “It ain’t hurtin’ ya, whatever it is, so we can deal with it after you’a’ well rested. Ah’ll jus’ be right out in the yard, if’n you need me.”
Devon peeked one bright eye open to give her a baffled look. “In the yard?”
She closed his eye again, and Globert promised, “We will stay well out of sight until daylight, but not out of reach. We won’t soon be letting you out of our reach again for any reason.” That might have sounded more like a threat than a comfort, but Devon didn’t ask any more questions. His adrenaline was spent, and the late hour was catching up with him hard. Being at least certain of his safety for the rest of the night, he couldn’t resist zonking out again before Merona could even slither out the door.
A short moment later she was coiled up in the grass beneath his window, hidden in the dark on the backside of the house, and set to spend the remainder of the night in a sleepless watch. “That boy worked magic for the first time in his life tonight,” Globert noted solemnly, “If would be surprising enough that he succeeded...”
Merona nodded reluctant agreement. “A blinding spell — spell of dazzling light — but he didn’t dispel it. He transferred it. Even repurposed it.” Her forked tongue flicked thoughtfully, and her tail rattled faintly. “Forgotten gods have mercy on us all. Master jus’ might be right...”
