Phae’s memories were vivid and complete. She could remember every word she had ever spoken, every conversation, every emotion. She would be able to pass along this gift of perfect memory to someone else if she kissed him. It was not one of her Dryad powers, but a gift from the Seneschal’s kiss on her forehead. Bringing up the Winemiller vineyard came to her as naturally as breathing, for she could remember every detail and knew the place as if she were right there.
Scield she thought.
The image on the mirror wavered and suddenly she was wearing her tunic and pants with comfortable boots and worn leather belt. The Tay al-Ard did not transform but remained in her belt. The transformation was not just an illusion, though. The Dryad robe could become anything she needed. She could appear as a Bhikhu or even a Rike. The magic would transform her instantly.
“You must always keep this robe,” Neodesha said, looking into her eyes seriously. “If you surrender it, you cannot return to Mirrowen.”
Phae turned and looked at her, feeling grateful the Seneschal had sent Neodesha to help her bathe and make the final preparations that would separate her from her past life. The look in Neodesha’s eyes was full of warning.
“Is that what happened?” Phae asked, gripping the other girl’s arm. “To the Dryads in the Scourgelands?”
Neodesha shook her head. “We do not know what happened, Phae. It was long ago and the Seneschal does not speak of it. I only understand that they forfeited their right to return to Mirrowen, and that I was warned, as I’m warning you, never to part from it. You now have your Dryad name, which you must give as a boon to someone who protects your tree. Be very careful whom you trust with it, Sister. Better to steal their memories than to be subjected to them.” Neodesha smiled and patted her shoulder. “Do you like the city?”
“It’s beautiful,” Phae said, staring at the bathing chamber with its marble tiles and gauzy curtains. Every detail was done after the highest order of craftsmanship. Gold fluting decorated every section of the marble, but it was not ostentatious. There were no torches or fires, for there was no place in the city where it was dark.
“Come with me then,” Neodesha invited, linking arms with her. “You might want to appear in the other gown, however. Vineyard garb wouldn’t be appropriate to wander in within the city.”
Together they left the bathing chamber through the archway. There were no doors anywhere, nothing closed off. They passed near a surging waterfall, which filled the air with a delicate mist as they passed. The smell of flowers lingered. The city was full of others, talking as they walked, discussing topics that previously would have baffled Phae. The rushing of the waterfall passed behind them and they descended a grand staircase together to a broad plaza, fringed with benches made of polished stone. Spirit animals could be seen as well, some interacting with the many races that were represented below.
The mix of plant life with the stonework of the city garden amazed Phae. She had always imagined Kenatos being a grand place to visit someday, a city built on a desolate island. Mirrowen was beyond imagining and she longed to explore the various hills that were interconnected, to search and discover exotic fragrances or budding fruit trees. She felt alive and free, but still unable to imagine that time had halted, that Shion and her father were somewhere nearby, yet not near. She fingered the Tay al-Ard, wondering if she could use it to leave Mirrowen if she needed to.
“There is the tree,” Neodesha said, gesturing across a bridge at the far side of the plaza.
It was the strangest thing she had ever seen. The tree was large and crowned with heavy limbs, but it was not of any variety she had beheld before. The bark was silver-gray and from its roots gushed a fountain of silver water that tumbled down three different channels going in three different directions, as if it were the source of three pure rivers. What tree birthed a water fountain, she wondered? As if that were not strange enough, there were a variety of different fruits growing on the different branches. Some were small and round. Others were thicker and shaped like pears. Some like apples. Some were fruits she had never seen before, with strange and colorful peels.
“Tell me about the tree,” Phae asked, staring at it as they began to cross the bridge to it. On the other side of the bridge, two massive, catlike creatures were settled and resting. Both were like Nizeera, except much bigger and with enormous white manes. Their pelts were also white and looked so soft that Phae wanted to dig her hands into them, but she dared not since their eyes were fierce.
“The tree has always been in Mirrowen,” Neodesha said. “One must be given permission to take from its fruit. The Seneschal is the Gardener. There are many powers here. Even the moss that grows on the stone can heal any wound. The leaves of the tree cure poison or disease.”