The Lost Rainbow Mage: Complete Trilogy Edition, page 28
“May I help?” I looked at the woman next to me, glancing at the way her dark hair was pulled back from her face, the style severe as it stretched the skin of her forehead and behind her ears.
Her eyes were bleak and empty as she looked at me. Then her gaze dropped to my belt, and she bent in front of me. “You mustn’t help,” she whispered. “This isn’t your place.”
After she finished speaking, she knelt once more and continued her job.
I didn’t press for lessons on what she was doing, and I sat back on my heels. My desire to help made them all uncomfortable.
Each of the women working had the same beautiful, intricate tattoos as Alice, some of them curling over their chins and toward their mouths, and some stopping halfway up their necks. In each of them, the colors shimmered in the sun, and my fingers itched to replicate the designs on paper.
Could I tattoo people like this? With paint? Or tattoo ink? I considered if inking the skin was the same as adding dye to hair as I’d done at Bess’s salon. It’d always felt as if I achieved that part through focused intention, so maybe that had been my light magic at work.
I leaned closer to the tattoo, trying to see how it was created, but I couldn’t tell. Alice was right—they didn’t require a hairdresser here, but maybe they needed a tattoo artist, especially given how they all wore the same body art.
“Meira.” Alice hurried over. “You should get up now. You don’t need to kneel in the dirt.”
I gestured to the women around me. “But I want to help.”
The woman who had almost laid herself flat out in front of me gestured toward my belt again. “But it isn’t your place.” She stopped for a moment and turned scared eyes to Alice as she touched the intricate design at her neck. Then she returned her attention to her work, digging at the loose soil with renewed vigor.
The scent of the rich earth rose from the ground, and I breathed it in. The nature and life here was so… inspiring. These people were creating their own survival. Perhaps Kiran had that part right. Maybe he was keeping these people safe after all.
I reached forward to loosen one of the plants in front of me like the others were doing, but Alice touched my hand, stopping me.
“This isn’t for you,” she said. “We should continue your tour elsewhere.”
I sighed. “I’m tired of looking into empty rooms over and over. I want to do something. I want to talk to people.”
The merest hint of a grimace tugged at Alice’s mouth, and she glanced around like she wasn’t quite sure what to do next.
If it was even possible, the atmosphere around me shifted, becoming even more quiet, but it wasn’t the same as the silence of no chatter between the workers, as it had been before. It was oppressive and tense now.
The women working alongside me moved jerkily, seeming less efficient as they lost their rhythms. Perhaps this really wasn’t my place. With a sigh, I started to stand up.
Then as one, they all pressed themselves lower, their foreheads nearly touching the floor.
“What?” I looked to Alice for explanation, but she’d assumed the same position, and her attention wasn’t on me.
A shadow loomed over my work area, and I glanced up, cupping my hand over my eyes to block the glare of the sun.
Kiran stood above me, and I rose to greet him.
“Meira!” His wide smile was in place as he boomed my name. “What are you doing out here in the gardens?” He gestured as if to illustrate the area he was referring to.
“I wanted to meet some of the people here and help with the work.” There didn’t seem to be any point in withholding my reasons from him. In fact, maybe he could take a lesson. “And I enjoy being in the sunshine and being outside.”
He nodded. “Of course you do.” He leaned closer like he was sharing a confidence with me. “I’ve been telling Lucian about you.”
Apprehension skittered over my skin at the mention of Lucian and the idea that strange, cold Lucian knew anything about me at all.
I wanted to ask Kiran what he’d shared with Lucian, but now wasn’t the time, and the garden was not the place. A movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention, and I glanced left in time to see my hummingbird flutter around the handle of a fork someone had left embedded in the ground.
“Am I allowed to help in the gardens?” It wasn’t really in my nature to ask for permission, but I was curious about his expectations of me. “If I want to?”
Alice and the other women were so adamant I shouldn’t be here, and they seemed to have formed their entire opinion based solely on the color of the sash I wore. They could at least wait until I killed a plant or three.
Kiran laughed, and the sound carried across the rows of vegetables. I glanced at the women still prostrating themselves on the floor in front of this one man who’d declared himself their leader, and unease threaded through my chest, tightening around my insides.
He threw an arm around my shoulders and drew me tight against him, and I tried not to resist, even though something about his touch repelled me. That was unexpected. I tried to smile, matching the joy he seemed to radiate.
The joy that didn’t seem quite genuine.
“You may do exactly as you like.” His tone was benevolent with an edge of steel, like he was warning the women to not let me join them. “If you wish to work in the gardens, that’s your choice. Alternatively, you may choose to wander among the flowers. No one will question your decisions, here. As my daughter, you know where you are best placed and what your calling is.”
Some of the women seemed to sink lower at his words, but I wanted to urge them to get up. This level of subservience was wrong, and I hated it. I despised my father for demanding it and teaching it to these people.
Abruptly, Kiran dropped his hold on me and marched away like something else had summoned him, and I returned to my knees on the ground, plucking hesitantly at the vegetables in front of me. As the women sat up to continue their work, the same unnatural silence as before continued, and I sighed as I looked around.
Regardless of what Kiran said about me being able to choose my tasks, I really wasn’t meant to be here or doing this.
twelve
Finally, I stood and dusted off my knees, giving in to the tension in the air. Alice rose as well, obviously intent on accompanying me wherever I planned to go next.
“What do you recommend I do now, Alice?” I smiled, but it partly felt forced.
Kiran appeared intent on forcing me to fit in here somehow, but the women were too scared of whatever position he’d created for me. How could I fit in? I didn’t want to rule them all. I couldn’t.
Being acknowledged as his daughter didn’t seem like it was altogether a blessing. In fact, in this place, it was becoming more of a curse, and I couldn’t decide how I felt about it. I’d never had a father, and the man currently claiming to be my progenitor was an asshole. How was I supposed to feel about that?
A fresh movement attracted my attention, and it was the same little girl who’d brought the message Kiran wanted to see me in his office yesterday. She stopped moving toward me when I noticed her, but I smiled and sank into a crouch between the rows of plants. I couldn’t remember her name.
“Hello.”
She smiled shyly back. “Hello.”
“How are you?”
Alice stepped forward. “Greta, why aren’t you in class?”
Greta shrugged.
I held my hand out toward her. “Did you come to see me?” Something about the little girl made me feel almost protective toward her. “It’s nice to see you again, Greta.”
She was small and dainty and blonde, and I still believed she couldn’t have been much older than six or seven, but her big blue eyes spoke of wisdom and being old beyond her years. For the first time since being here, an inhabitant of this place didn’t cower in front of my indigo belt.
Instead of answering me directly, or even looking to Alice, Greta stepped forward and touched my left collarbone gently. “Where are your swirlies?” she whispered.
“Swirlies?” I echoed.
She moved her fingers over me like she might be tracing one of the intricate tattoos they all wore, and I closed my eyes for a moment, soaking in her innocent touch, so different from the possessive hold Kiran had exhibited minutes ago.
“Swirlies,” she murmured. “You don’t have them.”
I looked more carefully at the girl. She had her own swirlies, and I touched them in return.
“They all look so beautiful,” I murmured. “How do you get them?”
Greta had a much smaller tattooed area than the older women, but the ink still shimmered and shone in the sunlight.
“The King says we have to have them.” Her voice remained solemn, her eyes earnest as she imparted this news. “They’re magic.”
I nodded. The King. I barely kept from shuddering. She had to mean Kiran. That part wasn’t unexpected, at least. I leaned forward as though I was confiding something to Greta alone, although when I cast a glance over the working women, their movements had slowed, and it was clear that as many of them that could hear my exchange with Greta were listening.
“I think The King must be a little like me, then.” I cringed inwardly as I referred to Kiran as The King. His position remained abhorrent to me.
Greta’s eyes widened a little, and her lips parted.
“But I don’t color on skin,” I continued. I lifted a section of her hair. “I color hair to be beautiful colors.”
“Really?” Her face relaxed as she considered the idea. “Like the colors of flowers?”
“Flowers or the sea or rainbows.” I laughed. “I used to work with lots of ladies who wanted their hair different colors. I walked with other ladies who cut hair and put curls in or took them out, too.”
She touched my hair, where the dye had faded. “Like your hair?”
“Even better than this,” I assured her. “This is old now. When it was new, the colors were bright and beautiful.”
“Can I have beautiful hair?” She looked curious, but one of the women behind her gasped. “I would like to have beautiful hair like yours… before.”
“I haven’t got any hair dye with me, and usually only grown-ups make decisions to dye their hair like this. But maybe one day.” I booped her nose as I spoke.
The answer seemed to satisfy her. “Maybe one day,” she repeated, beaming as though I had promised her the world, and I nodded my agreement until I caught the eye of one of the women.
She’d looked up from her work, and fear shone in her gaze. She shook her head slightly, and I released a small sigh. They were all so frightened, so constrained by their positions here. It made me sad, and I stood once more.
“Anyway,” I said. “Would you like to help show me around, Greta? Or we could maybe do some drawing together, if you prefer?”
She nodded eagerly at first then looked at Alice. “Oh.” Her voice was small. “I should be somewhere else.”
“Are you supposed to be at school?” It would be interesting to find out what school was like here.
After all, what did they teach the children when the people weren’t allowed in the library full of ancient books? Did they bus the children out to local schools? That seemed unlikely, given how separately they maintained their life from the rest of society.
“I’ve finished school for today.” Greta half-addressed Alice as she spoke now.
“Then you have your chores,” Alice replied.
Greta nodded.
“Can she stay with me just a little?” I didn’t know why I asked for Greta’s company. I certainly didn’t want to disrupt the routine here or get anyone into trouble, but part of me felt drawn to the little girl who’d touched my bare skin and wondered where my tattoo was.
Alice pressed her lips together as she studied us, and it was probably the biggest display of emotion I’d seen from her so far. There was something disapproving in her decision-making, and it seemed like long seconds passed before she released a breath like she’d weighed something up and arrived at an impasse. Her shoulders drooped ever so slightly.
“I have some chores to do,” she said. “Greta can accompany you while I’m busy elsewhere.”
Greta smiled, her whole face becoming a mask of full joy.
“There you go.” I ruffled her hair, the movement slight. “You need to make time for fun, too. Not all chores.” Hopefully, the children here didn’t have lives consisting of only school and work on the compound, no matter how beautiful the surroundings. Children required play; Greta needed play.
In fact, the beauty of the surroundings made it worse if they didn’t get to enjoy them.
“How about we bring my drawing things down to the garden? We can draw some of the flowers and look at the colors. It’s still kind of like studying,” I added for Alice’s benefit. “Maybe we can learn a little bit about the flowers as we go along. Sound like a plan?”
Greta nodded and reached for my hand. Her fingers were small and warm as I took hold of them. The small hand in mine did something to my heart, and a jagged pain sliced through me. How could I leave Greta to become Kathleen or Alice? Badgered and belittled into a place so much smaller than the people they could be.
I lifted my chin so Greta couldn’t see the tears shimmering in the corners of my eyes. “We should go to my room and bring the art supplies down here into the garden.”
She nodded, her eyes still wide as she watched me. I hadn’t seen many children here in the Commune, but something about Greta made me want to find them and protect them all, although I didn’t know from what.
More of that creeping, icky feeling that something was horrendously wrong here moved through me.
“Maybe…” I let my voice trail off as I pressed a finger to my lip.
“Maybe what?” Excitement bubbled in Greta’s voice, and she bounced a little alongside me.
“Maybe if we set up the art supplies, and we’re as quiet as we can be, maybe my friend will come and join us.”
“You have a friend here?” Greta looked around. “Who?”
A couple of the other women also looked up from their work and watched with open curiosity.
“Yes, I have a friend here, but she’s a hummingbird. She has feathers the color of the rainbow, and sometimes she lets me paint or draw her.”
“Really?” Greta crossed her arms and eyed me.
I nodded. “Really, truly,” I whispered, like it was a secret just for us to share.
“And she might come here so I can see?” Greta didn’t sound convinced.
“She’s already here. I’ve seen her.” I turned to Alice. “Alice has seen her. Haven’t you, Alice?”
She nodded. “I have, and she’s beautiful.”
“Her feathers are all the colors of the rainbow,” I repeated to Greta. “And they’re beautiful—just like your swirlies. Maybe I could draw those one day, too.”
Greta touched the tattoo on her skin, but she didn’t reply.
I’d have to ask Kiran how he achieved this. If he really was my father, maybe I could harness this ability, too. Being able to create something so beautiful on human skin held a lot of appeal. It reminded me of dying hair. The body became the canvas.
“Ready to take me back to my room?”
Greta was a different kind of guide than Alice and Marcus, almost running through the house as she led me back to my room. The route was starting to look familiar, but it still helped to follow someone, even though she disappeared around corners before I had much of a chance to catch up.
Once inside my room, I opened the drawers containing the supplies and watched as Greta’s eyes widened with awe. Her eyes glittered with excitement, and she clasped her hands in front of her chest.
“These are all yours?” She sounded almost breathless.
I nodded, suddenly uneasy. “Yes, don’t you and the other children have similar things?”
She shook her head. “No.” Then she reached forward but retracted her hand at the last minute, like the crayons and colors might burn her.
“You can touch them. They won’t hurt you, and you’ll need to touch them to draw, anyway. Or aren’t you planning to help me carry these out to the garden?”
She laughed, and real joy infused the sound. “I can help.”
I handed her a couple of sketch pads and a selection of the pencils, and I grabbed more pencils and a couple of the small easels to carry. “Let’s go back down.” Every moment we spent inside and out of the sun felt like a waste. “You’ll enjoy this.”
Greta nodded and did the same scampering ahead of me thing she had while leading me to my room. I admired her enthusiasm. Even here, where most of her life seemed to revolve around chores, and where she might grow up to do more work and scheduled jobs, she had a joy for life that I almost envied. She hadn’t even experienced true freedom, yet she was happy. Perhaps I could change things for her. For all of the women on their knees outside.
We arrived outside, and I set the easels up before propping a sketch pad on one and gesturing to the tin of pencils Greta had carried down.
“What should I draw?” She scrunched her nose up as she asked the question.
I shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy.”
“Really?” She grinned again. “I can choose?”
“Sure you can.” I set up my own sketchbook and grabbed a pencil from my tin. “I’m going to do that ink flower over there.” I gestured at it with the end of the pencil.
“I might do that one, too…” She skipped over to it, frowned, and bent down, studying it or breathing in the smell or something else a seven-year-old might do to get to know a bloom.
“Will it do?” I laughed as I called out to her. “Is that the one?”
She turned to me, her face serious. “I think it should be fine.”
I made my first sweeping line on my paper, familiar old excitement returning to me as I applied the first swipe of color to the page. It fizzed through my veins and turned time into something that both slowed and raced. I made three more swipes across the canvas before remembering I had a young charge with me.
