Chapter 33: In Which The Wings of a Moth Conclude the Storm

I was not surprised to see that the room was round, with two round sleeping mats on the white marble floor, and one high round window overlooking the night sky. I noted the bars at the window – they were not round at all.

Each girl placed her orb by her bed. I quickly burrowed my way underneath what was Fizz's sleeping mat, sticking my head out just enough to be able to see and hear what was being said and done.

The other girl was bigger than Fizz but probably not much older. She wiped sweat off her face as she removed her white robe and unbraided her hair, putting on a white sleeping gown. She slipped into her mat with a sigh.

"It's so hot," she murmured in the voice of someone talking in her sleep. I could see the light blue ribbons of magic crowding around her eyes and ears, coiling about her throat. Life had been turned into a gauzy dream for the novices of the Goddess of Dreams.

Fizz did not respond for a while. I could hear the sound of rustling fabric as she too undressed. The mat on top of me became heavy when she lay down on it and I moved to avoid the weight of her body. "At least it's better than the winter," she answered after I had stopped expecting her to. The sound of her voice, so familiar, made my heart beat ten times faster.

"Autumn, then winter and finally spring," the girl from the other mat chanted dreamily. "I can't wait for the Tournament. Did you hear? They're going to let us all watch the important competitions."

"I don't care about magic," Fizz replied. "But I'll enjoy seeing things that aren't round."

They didn't speak any more, and neither of them moved. I listened to their breathing and after several moments finally decided that it sounded like they were both asleep. I slipped out of my hiding place and padded over to the other girl. Gently and carefully, I wove my own magic into the spell she was under, making her sleep deeper, making her unable to hear or see me. Then I turned myself back into a boy and carefully crawled toward Fizz.

I examined her sleeping face. She looked peaceful, her cheeks somewhat fuller than they used to be – at least she was eating well here. But I knew Fizz better than anyone else, and even if she gained a warm meal every day, she would never sell away her freedom. I then watched the spells that latched on to her, an octopus of transparent blue ribbons moving about her eyes and ears, tying around her throat, and from her throat, one thick ribbon went onward, through the wall to somewhere, to someone, deep within the temple.

I couldn't rip the spells away without causing Fizz harm and alerting whoever stood at the controlling end. I could only shift them aside as best I could, and then plant a spell of my own among them, a spell that would slowly, and surely, free her from all the others.

I gently stroked her cheek, my throat suddenly unbearably tight. "Fizz." I whispered.

To my surprise, her brown eyes fluttered open almost at once and she looked directly at me, wide awake and recognising. "Rat," she said, sitting up with a smile, "you came."

I drowned in relief. My smile felt so large my head nearly tore in half. "Fizz, let's get out of here," I whispered, my hand still on her cheek.

"You didn't come for so many nights," she said, placing her small hand on the back of mine. "I thought you weren't coming."

Had she waited for me for two years, hoping every night I would come to her? The tightness in my throat intensified, making it hard to breathe. "I didn't know where you were," I said, ashamed at how much that sounded like an excuse. "I thought you were dead."

She blinked at me and suddenly removed her hand away from mine, her expression changing into confusion. "Dead?" she asked, bewildered. "Why would you think that?"

I shook my head, confused by her confusion – but every misunderstanding could be straightened out later, I didn't know how much longer we had before someone heard us talking. "Never mind that, Fizz," I said, a little urgently, "let's get out of here. I brought you some clothes, I hope you won't mind dressing as a boy, at least until I find you some dresses..."

"Will you stop it already?" she cut me off. "You're always going on and on about escaping, but whenever I wake up, you're gone. If I escape from here, where can I go?"

"We'll go," I said, feeling a strange kind of desperation overtake me. Fizz seemed more and more peculiar. "We'll go wherever we want to go. I'm stronger than I used to be, Fizz, I can look after you, you won't have to worry."

"But Rat," she said in a muted whisper. "you can't go anywhere, you don't exist."

"What?"

"You always try this," tears glowed in her eyes as she spoke, "and I always believe you, but then I wake up and I remember that you've been gone for so long, that you're always a dream, only a dream, and I keep trying to convince you, but you never listen. Your visits always hurt too much, Rat. They hurt too much I can't bear them anymore."

I grasped her shoulders, my heart both racing and crumbling to bits. "Fizz, look at me, look at me with your eyes. It's really me, I'm really here," I gave her a small shake. "I've been at the palace, training as a magician. But I don't belong there, I belong where you are, Fizz, please, just come with me and I'll tell you everything."

Her expression changed completely, her dark eyes suddenly shuttered, her mouth forming a thin line, her pointed chin sticking out stubbornly. She pulled away from my grasp. "Leave me alone," she said sharply and loudly. The girl on the other mat stirred, raising her head from her pillow and regarded us with watery eyes.

"Fizz? Who're you talking to?" she asked, yawning.

Fizz looked at the other girl and then at me as if her point had just been proven, "I knew you were only a dream, you're always only a dream," she said accusingly.

"I put a spell on her so that she won't see or hear me," I said defensively.

"You're not even Rat anymore!" She collected her mat and blankets, leaning away from me. "You're too strange! You're a stranger! Go away and stop fooling me."

"Fizz, it's really me," I pleaded, desperately.

"You don't exist!" she shouted. "Go away!"

"Fizz – " I stopped to listen to the sound of footsteps in the corridor. I shook my head, I didn't want to risk getting caught, I didn't know how elegantly I could cover up after myself if I did. "The Tournament," I blurted, "I'm going to compete in the Tournament. I'll do it all for you, so just come watch me, Fizz."

I didn't wait for a response and rose to my feet. She recoiled from me, as if frightened by my ability to stand. I made the window open and turned into a moth as the round door of the room rolled open.

"We heard voices," a woman said behind me as I fluttered up to the open window.

Fizz burst into loud, wailing sobs. "She was having a dream," said the other girl, making Fizz sob even harder. I had some practice with flying, but not enough with the wings of a moth. I fluttered clumsily into the night with my street-sister's sobs flooding my ears.

***

On the way down to the street below, I turned into a boy again, clumsily crashing to the ground. I tried to soften the fall with my injured hand and was jolted by terrible pain. I sat there on the ground, hurting and miserable, not quite ready yet to get up and decide what to do next.

A throat was cleared behind me, and I spun around, prepared to attack. I stopped midway when recognition registered. My body relaxed and I sighed.

"A boy your age is forbidden to sigh," he said.

"Whatever you say," I replied weakly, hanging my head in defeat.

"And also," he went on, "you shouldn't be the one sighing. You know how to give an old man a big scare."

"Don't sweat," I said dejectedly, "you'll get what you want, old man."

The Grand Master looked grim. "So you presume to know what I want." He motioned over his shoulder and two people rushed forward, a man and a girl, I took a step back.

Burgen advanced upon me from one side with a glare so bright it nearly burned a hole in my skull. He jabbed his finger at my chest. "Wimp," he said with another jab, "coward," he continued with a third jab, "spineless loser."

I knocked his finger away. "I get it," I said sullenly.

"I want to be sure to get my point across," he said. "You seem clever, but in fact you're an idiot."

"So what if I am?"

He continued to glare. "Do you, in all honesty, believe that you are such a sorry creature in this world that no one would miss you if you ran off and got yourself killed?" he demanded.

I smirked, "What makes you so sure I'd die?"

The Grand Master coughed. "Rat," he said, "your hand."

I looked at it, it was twice as big as it had been before I left the palace, and while I couldn't see the colour of the skin in the moonlight, it shone as pale and white as the marble of the temple of the Goddess of Dreams.

"You've been poisoned," said Cala, taking my injured hand into hers without asking for permission. "You need care and rest or you'll be dead in a fortnight."

"I wouldn't mind sleeping," I said wearily.

Burgen hung his arm over my shoulders; he exchanged a nod with both the Grand Master and Cala. "Let's be getting you home, little man," he said a bit too cheerfully for it to be genuine. He began leading me away.

I turned my head to catch one last glance at the round white temple behind me. Its many small round windows dotted the white dome, I had just come from one of them, but I could not remember which.

I wanted to see her face peeking from one of the windows, watching as I was taken away to a place I couldn't help but call home, but of course, she wasn't there.

I resolved to find a way to get her out of there. I wasn't going to give up on her, ever.

A/N - So there you have it, Fizz is back, but trapped in a different reality. Will watching Rat compete in the tournament manage to convince her that he's real? What did you think about the Goddess of Dreams practice? There's no certainty that the gods and goddesses of Rat's universe are real or just organisations that thrive through people's need to worship something greater than them. Wielders are the closest thing to living gods, so they tend to not believe in the existence of any power stronger than they are - aside from the power of a stronger Wielder.