as the Order of Chaos. It’s because of her and her Order that the Guard was formed. And it’s sort of ironic that we refer to it as an ‘order’ ’cause her armies, and the result of their actions, create anything but order.’
Isabel doesn’t say a word, just stares at me with those big brown eyes that seemingly grow darker every passing second. Then she sighs and shakes her head. ‘That’s ridiculous. And if it were true, why don’t we see any physical proof in the world today?’
‘There’s plenty of proof, just look around. The result of this chaotic disorder is famine, plague, flood, war, hostility.’
She scoffs at me. ‘Those things are either natural or man-made disasters.’
I think she’s just being particularly stubborn. She’s not even trying to allow the idea to take shape in her mind. ‘OK, look, what if I tell you that you and I arepart of a Proph— a plan.’
‘What sort of plan?’
‘A plan to preserve history and maintain a stable present, so that – and this is the important part – the future unfolds as it …’ I’m losing her again. ‘Never mind.’
She groans dramatically. ‘Why should I believe this fantasy story of yours? You know you sound completely off your head. Are you on something?’
‘Were you on something when you healed your own finger this morning? Did you imagine the wound, or was it real?’
She glances down at her hand. I shine the torch on her fingers. She sighs and wriggles around. ‘I don’t know. It sure felt real.’
‘It was real. You know it was. You healed yourself ’cause you willed it to happen. You’re a healer and your time is approaching, so your skills are forming in a physical sense.’
For a second I think she’s accepting, but then her natural human scepticism digs in and she shakes her head. ‘This is too unreal. Everything you’ve said, it’s not possible.’
An idea hits me. There’s only one way to make her believe quickly. ‘Hold on, don’t move.’ I get up, thinking I’ll just have to use my other skill. Closing my eyes, I visualise exactly how the cabin was when I visited Rosalind in 1858, right down to the brick fireplace, the wood-burning stove and the window with the calico curtains.
‘Oh, wow!’
Her soft exclamation as she staggers to her feet has me opening my eyes and looking at my handiwork.The cabin is now fully restored, including the roughly made cedar table and chairs, stacks of bunks with their coarse blankets and lumpy mattresses, the family portrait over the top of the fireplace; and of course the cabin wouldn’t have the right feel without burning kindling in the stone fireplace, and the warm scent of freshly baked damper wafting from the oven.
Isabel touches my arm with a trembling hand, her mouth gaping, eyes hugely round. ‘Ethan, how?’
It’s exactly the reaction I want. Complete awe. ‘It’s an illusion. It’s one of my two skills. You saw me use the other skill in the classroom this morning. Remember the pen?’
She nods, still staring at the transformed room. ‘You created this?’
‘Only in your head. If you wanted to, you could look through it to the reality, but you’re not trained to use that part of your psyche yet. I’ll teach you though, if you let me. You see, you’re one of the Named. And now you’ve been chosen to be my Apprentice.’
Her ingrained sense of adventure starts to kick in. It starts in her eyes. They lose their wild frightened look, switching to an interested, verging on eager, curiosity.
And I realise that for now at least, I have her hooked.
Chapter Nine
Isabel
Ethan is really weird, more than anyone else I’ve ever met or am ever likely to. But I can’t deny what I see with my own eyes. The cabin, fully restored, smells and all, leaves me breathless. At least now I can rest assured I’m not going crazy and I really did heal myself this morning. Or maybe I am going crazy and this whole scene is part of my delusion.
I inhale a final whiff
Isabel doesn’t say a word, just stares at me with those big brown eyes that seemingly grow darker every passing second. Then she sighs and shakes her head. ‘That’s ridiculous. And if it were true, why don’t we see any physical proof in the world today?’
‘There’s plenty of proof, just look around. The result of this chaotic disorder is famine, plague, flood, war, hostility.’
She scoffs at me. ‘Those things are either natural or man-made disasters.’
I think she’s just being particularly stubborn. She’s not even trying to allow the idea to take shape in her mind. ‘OK, look, what if I tell you that you and I arepart of a Proph— a plan.’
‘What sort of plan?’
‘A plan to preserve history and maintain a stable present, so that – and this is the important part – the future unfolds as it …’ I’m losing her again. ‘Never mind.’
She groans dramatically. ‘Why should I believe this fantasy story of yours? You know you sound completely off your head. Are you on something?’
‘Were you on something when you healed your own finger this morning? Did you imagine the wound, or was it real?’
She glances down at her hand. I shine the torch on her fingers. She sighs and wriggles around. ‘I don’t know. It sure felt real.’
‘It was real. You know it was. You healed yourself ’cause you willed it to happen. You’re a healer and your time is approaching, so your skills are forming in a physical sense.’
For a second I think she’s accepting, but then her natural human scepticism digs in and she shakes her head. ‘This is too unreal. Everything you’ve said, it’s not possible.’
An idea hits me. There’s only one way to make her believe quickly. ‘Hold on, don’t move.’ I get up, thinking I’ll just have to use my other skill. Closing my eyes, I visualise exactly how the cabin was when I visited Rosalind in 1858, right down to the brick fireplace, the wood-burning stove and the window with the calico curtains.
‘Oh, wow!’
Her soft exclamation as she staggers to her feet has me opening my eyes and looking at my handiwork.The cabin is now fully restored, including the roughly made cedar table and chairs, stacks of bunks with their coarse blankets and lumpy mattresses, the family portrait over the top of the fireplace; and of course the cabin wouldn’t have the right feel without burning kindling in the stone fireplace, and the warm scent of freshly baked damper wafting from the oven.
Isabel touches my arm with a trembling hand, her mouth gaping, eyes hugely round. ‘Ethan, how?’
It’s exactly the reaction I want. Complete awe. ‘It’s an illusion. It’s one of my two skills. You saw me use the other skill in the classroom this morning. Remember the pen?’
She nods, still staring at the transformed room. ‘You created this?’
‘Only in your head. If you wanted to, you could look through it to the reality, but you’re not trained to use that part of your psyche yet. I’ll teach you though, if you let me. You see, you’re one of the Named. And now you’ve been chosen to be my Apprentice.’
Her ingrained sense of adventure starts to kick in. It starts in her eyes. They lose their wild frightened look, switching to an interested, verging on eager, curiosity.
And I realise that for now at least, I have her hooked.
Chapter Nine
Isabel
Ethan is really weird, more than anyone else I’ve ever met or am ever likely to. But I can’t deny what I see with my own eyes. The cabin, fully restored, smells and all, leaves me breathless. At least now I can rest assured I’m not going crazy and I really did heal myself this morning. Or maybe I am going crazy and this whole scene is part of my delusion.
I inhale a final whiff
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