opportunity to disappear, kicking back the way we came and heading for the cave. But before I even begin to lengthen my strokes, Carragheen was at my side.
I know where you’re going. He was swimming with my rhythm. Let me help.
Yeah, you were so useful last time. I spat the words into his brain like barbs.
Something about the look on his face made me wonder. Had he seen something? Something new? Something I should know about? With that other kind of sight that I now knew he had. I needed to know, even more than I needed to hurt him. Do you think she’s alive?
He didn’t skip a beat. I don’t think it, I know it.
Don’t offer me empty comforts, Carragheen.
Rania, I am not. I know she is alive. I can feel it.
I suddenly realized from the serious expression on his face that Carragheen was talking about that whole other kind of knowing. And I seized his hand. You have seen her? In visions?
No, not quite. No. But sometimes I… feel things. Sense them. Since the visions started. It’s like they, the visions, have… turned me on somehow.
I thought again about Mom’s words. Evolution. Another awakening.
He stopped and turned to me. This has happened to you too?
I nodded, and he asked the next logical question. So, have you felt her out there too?
I felt myself flush. No.
The flush spread. Why would Carragheen have knowledge of Lecanora, my Lecanora, and not me? I thought about Mom, how I had last seen her, moments ago. I wondered if how I felt about the Princess was the problem. I knew when I worried about Mom I could hardly see straight. I certainly can’t be logical, or careful. I wondered if this was the same.
Carragheen read my thoughts. I wonder if we should try together.
I still wanted to kick him, still didn’t know if I could trust him, but I wasn’t exactly knee-deep in other people having visions right now and the idea made sense. I remembered that my mother was able to protect me with her song, when she was so afraid for me, and so focused.
Maybe together, with this thing we both had, Carragheen and I could locate Lecanora.
I nodded, and Carragheen led me down and over to a resting place between some homes. He sat close to me, and I was reminded momentarily of the action on the sofa the night before. But this time the vibe was very different. I got down to business. How do we do this?
I have no idea. But he smiled at me encouragingly and picked up my hands. Think about her, think on her. But not about this, your fears for her. Just... the fact of her. Do you think you can do that?
I nodded meekly, taking his hands in mine. He squeezed them, and I tried.
It was strange, but it was like I could feel Carragheen’s very mind inside mine as I looked for her. Like his mind was watching mine, joined to me somehow. Suddenly he tensed.
“I’m feeling her,” he said.
I tried not to feel like I was in an episode of Ghost Whisperer.
I concentrated harder, freeing my mind of all that was not Lecanora. Focusing on the energy of the man beside me. Feeling like a kick to my stomach his strength and the power of his mind. And imagining Lecanora’s mind too, out there somewhere, waiting to be found.
Like a lightning bolt inside my head, it happened. I felt her too.
“I have her,” I breathed.
Oh sweet mother of us all, I did have her, and she was crying.
She was crying out for me.
But not with her voice. No. She was crying out in some private place in her brain. Or maybe not crying. She was… what was she doing? Oh no. She was hoping. Hoping I would come for her. And she was not alone. She was with Imogen.
Lecanora was trying to tell me something, but her brain was weak and feverish. I could see muddy pictures. She was looking for something when she was taken. Ah, I saw it now. She was searching for some lighsa weed, on the south-western ridges, to take to her mother. To aid her journey back to strength, and vigor.
I concentrated harder, trying to look right into the deepest places of her brain.
Singing. She was talking about singing. She was telling me that I must sing, that somehow this was the answer. I must sing to find her, and sing to save them both. What