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“Take your time to view the picture. Do you see this here? How the trees line the path to the right, and the little copse of trees in the distance. Try and think about it in as much detail as you can. The placement of the sun, the dips in the landscape, the river that dissects it, and in the far distance, the mountain range.”
“Where is it?” she asks.
“It doesn’t matter where it is,” he replies. “Only that it is a place far from here.”
I busy myself with my sewing as they discuss the picture.
When I glance up, they have moved away from the desk and are now facing the center of the room.
“Now, Melody. I want you to hold the stone for me. Look to the center of the room where the floorboards are a different color. And while you focus on that point, I want you to think about the place in the picture.”
“Okay,” she agrees in her sweet voice.
I’m paying very little attention to my sewing now, curious about what they do.
Melody is a tool here, like we all are, except she is a particularly precious one.
There’s already been one trip through the portal, which she is capable of guiding. There are many portals in this land, or so I have learned since arriving at Krug. But they are like rudderless ships upon the sea, taking unwary travelers to unknown destinations from which they might never return. Unless they have a keystone—like the one Melody holds in her hands. For Melody, using the keystone is instinctive. The Blighten already have access to many destinations. By using Melody, they hope to gain access to even more.
I could weep for the sadness of it, of new homes and people decimated by the Blighten, of innocent people assimilated into their ranks or killed. This young bright child, with her whirling silver eyes and riot of red-gold hair, with a sweet disposition and a sweet tooth, is being melded toward monstrous aims.
It breaks my heart.
It also reminds me of all that I have lost as well as the ever-hungry war tribe of which I am now a part.
She stands there for long moments. Nothing happens.
“Can you feel anything, child?” Jendrick stands close, leaning in.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“That’s okay.” Jendrick is patient with her. I will give him that. “We’ll try another picture.”
And so it goes on. This is not the first time we have done this. I dare say it will not be the last. I wonder what they’re trying to do when there is no portal in the room.
I go back to my sewing… only to be roused by a thunderous clap. A black hole opens and then snaps shut again. Melody drops the stone and falls to her knees. Bard is at her side instantly, helping her up.
“I feel dizzy,” she says.
“That is enough for today,” Bard says, daring to offer an opinion to the orc master.
My heart is racing wildly. What did Melody just do? Did she open a portal out of nothing? I don’t fully understand what just transpired, yet I sense the significance of it.
Jendrick stares at Melody. “That is enough for today,” he agrees.
“Can I have a toffee apple now?” Melody asks, oblivious to the dark undertones that have the room in a stranglehold.
“You may certainly have a toffee apple on the way back, my dear child,” Jendrick says. “And tomorrow, you will return.”
“She needs a rest,” Bard says.
“Tomorrow,” Jendrick says firmly, reminding us all that he is an orc and a master, and we are merely bondservants.
Bard bows his head and takes Melody by the hand as I hasten to fold my sewing up neatly and place it back into my bag.
Melody seems untroubled by whatever happened and begins chattering about her toffee apple.
We stop and get her the toffee apple, which is so big she can barely hold it, although she does an admirable job of tucking into her prize as we walk back to our home. She is tired now and asks Doug to carry her, which he does.
