Phae’s heart was swarming with conflicting feelings. What she heard sounded preposterous in some ways. But she did not speak her doubts openly and stared at the Dryad. She patted the girl’s hand, thinking of a thousand questions.
“Why is the fruit bitter?”
“I don’t know. It just is.”
“I know I can steal memories. I have that power now. How do I embed them into a tree?”
The girl smiled. “When you make the oath, the Seneschal will kiss your forehead. When he does, your memory will be perfect only so long as the tree lives. Your responsibility to guard and care for it isn’t permanent. When you pass on the duty to your daughter, you will not be able to take all those memories with you. The burden will pass to another.”
Phae’s brow wrinkled. “And I will have the power to restore someone else’s memories? You said that you could do it with a Dryad’s kiss, but it is—”
“It can be loathsome, yes. If a man has saved your tree from destruction, you owe him a boon. It is a debt that must be fulfilled. If he lingers for one day, you must appear to him. If he looks at you, then you can steal his memories and he will forget the debt and leave. If he does not look at you, then you must give him your true name. That is the name that the Seneschal gives you. With it, the man can force you to obey him. That is why we try to trick the man into looking at us and make him forget. A man with that power over us can prevent us from fulfilling our duty. It would prevent us from returning to Mirrowen.” She shuddered. “That is why the Druidecht guard this lore so carefully, to prevent the young ones from taking advantage of us. Wisdom comes with age not with youth. If you give the man your name, you may give him a Dryad’s kiss, which allows him to bond with you and gain access to your thoughts as well as your perfect memory. If he dies, the connection ends. If the tree is destroyed, it is also severed.
She squeezed Phae’s arm sadly. “This is why Tyrus of Kenatos seeks you to enter the Scourgelands. There are Dryads there who are bound to this world and no longer visit Mirrowen. Their trees are ancient, as old as the world when it began. They are cut off from Mirrowen now and are poisoned with hate. They will not speak with us. If you can find the mother tree, the one who controls all the others in the forest, you can enter Mirrowen there and seek the fallen Dryad and remove her burden. That would give you the knowledge Tyrus seeks. No doubt she contains many secrets and many mysteries.”
Phae felt a surge of alarm. “But what if she does not relinquish it? What if she refuses? Does she have that choice?”
The Dryad nodded. “She must willingly give it to you. She may well be mad by now.” She cupped Phae’s cheek. “There is great risk in this journey. The Scourgelands are guarded by evil spirits that act as sentinels to keep away the living. They will try to kill you, even though you are Dryad-born.”
Sighing in despair, Phae wiped her face, her emotions churning. The possibility of success was even more remote than she believed. They would have to fight their way deep into the Scourgelands, surrounded on all sides by enemies seeking her death. How would they even find that mother tree? Would they have to search every tree in the forest? How long would that take?
“You are despairing,” the girl said softly. “I feel it in you.”
“This quest feels impossible,” Phae murmured.
She shook her head. “No, sister. When Tyrus ventured into the Scourgelands last time, it was impossible. Despite his failure, he gained the key he needed. Through patience and cunning, he has arranged for you to succeed where he failed. It will be difficult. It will be the most difficult thing you ever do.”
Phae bit her lip. “I wish I could have met my mother.” She sighed again, feeling the tears sting her eyes.
“You will,” the Dryad promised, tears glistening on her lashes. “When her charge is complete, when her tree finally succumbs to death, as all trees must eventually, she will be free to join you in Mirrowen. She has earned her place there.”
Smiling, Phae reached out and hugged the other girl. It was a mote of hope. A tiny little speck. But it was something.
“Could I enter Mirrowen from your tree?” Phae asked, staring at the bark, wincing at the damage done to it by a vicious axe.
“No, not yet,” the Dryad replied. “Only those oath-bound may enter Mirrowen through a Dryad tree. You are not oath-bound yet.” She clasped Phae’s hand between hers. “I sense in you that your power is fully ripe. You are sixteen, or will be soon. If you do not take the oath by that time, you will not be able to enter Mirrowen at all. You must choose this life or abandon it forever. It must be your choice, freely made.”