Crystal Garden. Ewa Bash
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in a past life. Did I ever have a past life? Or had I lived here for hundreds of years, listening to the winds howling in the corridors and the logs crackling in the fireplace.
Weeks went by, but I didn’t notice. I was living somewhere at the edge of reality, and I was lost in my books. I didn’t know the date, the month or even the day of the week. Once, in the middle of the night, some flashes of light woke me. I went to the window and saw fireworks in the distance. New Year had arrived. I leant my forehead against the glass. It was as cold as ice. Alicia stood next to me with her paws on the windowsill and looked out of the window. I felt sad. I remembered last Christmas when Sunny and I were standing in the crowd in front of the town hall and were counting the strokes. I remember I wished then that Sunny would stop taking drugs and that something interesting would happen in my life. Well, sometimes wishes do come true.
Alicia whimpered softly and I closed my eyes. Blood rushed to my face and was throbbing in my temples. My throat was dry, my heart was beating faster and faster, and the tension in my head grew. I put my hands on the windowsill and clenched my fists. I was losing control. The ground was slipping from under my feet. I thought I was going to cry or lose consciousness, but suddenly the glass cracked and shattered into many pieces. Fresh air hit my face and I jumped back. My self-control was returning, but too slowly. My hands trembled, and my legs refused to hold my weight. Alicia looked at me and pricked up her ears. Was she hurt? I examined her from all sides. She was fine, but I wasn’t. My right cheek was bleeding, but in my current condition it seemed so trivial, so I patted Alicia on the head and went back to bed. Alicia lied down beside me and began to lick the wound on my cheek. The pain gradually subsided, and I found that I liked the feel of her rough tongue. Then she buried her nose into my neck and made a soft noise that sounded like “don’t be sad.” I hugged her and soon fell asleep.
The next morning, the chatter of my teeth woke me. Sleeping in a room with a broken window is practically the same as sleeping outside. I tried to fix the glass myself, but to no avail. I didn’t have enough magic for it. So, I went searching for something to fix the window with. I wandered from room to room but couldn’t find anything suitable. Alicia was following me like a silent black shadow. I walked through a room filled with antique cookware and broken china, and into a large hall. The afternoon sun was streaming through the curtained windows, driving away the darkness and illuminating the walls which were covered with antique muskets and swords, maces and spears, rapiers and crossbows.
On one of the walls there was a huge painting of a battle scene. A castle in the background reminded me of the Mentor’s home, but it was engulfed in flames. In front of the castle was a rider on a black steed. His dark armour and copper tinted hair glistened in the firelight. His face was contorted with rage and his eyes… that piercing, cold stare. I saw that same look every time I looked at the Mentor. In one hand the rider was clutching a spear, and its tip had pierced the chest of a knight, who was lying on the ground. This knight’s blond hair and pale armour were stained with mud and blood, but he was not defeated. It seemed that he was trying to repel the attack with his sword. I went closer to examine it. The blade was beautifully engraved with an inscription in Latin, but I didn’t have the knowledge to understand it.
I looked into the face of the white knight. The paint was faded and peeling in some places, but his eyes were alive and full of determination. It seemed to me that any moment he would come to life. I was fascinated by him. The artist who depicted the triumph of the black rider was certainly on the side of the white knight. And so was I. My heart was overflowing with pain. I didn’t want the white knight to die. I reached out and touched his painted forehead. It was cold and dusty. Alicia, who had been standing next to me the whole time, suddenly growled and attacked me. She sunk her teeth into the hand that was touching the wall. Her grip was firm and deep, but short-lived. She let go of me almost immediately.
“What are you doing?” I shouted, rubbing my wrist. It was bleeding. She was just staring at me. “Mad Dog!”
I went to hit her, but she didn’t move.
“Ah, to hell with you!” I waved my hand and walked away. She wanted to follow me, but I turned around and yelled at her.
“Get out of here!”
She froze.
“Do not follow me, dumb animal! Get out!”
She sat still, and I went into another room and slammed the door with all my might. A piece of plaster fell on my head. I shook it off and looked around. In a mildewed corner, there were a few canvases covered with cobwebs. Years later I learnt that these were the priceless works of sixteenth century masters, but then I just used them to fix the window and warm up a little.
After that incident, I ignored Alicia for several weeks. I let the mysterious servants take care of her. I didn’t need such a crazy dog. Besides, the Mentor had been away for so many days that I had even started to worry that something had happened to him, but then he returned.
It was a winter evening. A snowstorm was howling outside. I was sitting at his desk drawing a medieval castle with a quill pen. My fingers were stained with ink, but I had nothing else to draw with – not a single pencil! Sometimes I felt sorry that I’d left my comic books at home in Germany. What adventures I could imagine for my beautiful Amazon now!
In came the Mentor. He was wearing a summer shirt and shorts that were definitely not appropriate for the blizzard that was knocking on the windows. The Mentor looked tanned and fresh. Alicia, who was lying on the coach pretending to be extremely bored, immediately jumped up and sprinted towards him.
“My dear,” he said as he patted her on the head. “Hello, Walter.” He came up to the table and put a pile of books in front of me.
The books were new with that wonderful smell of paper and ink. Economy and Law. Astonished, I started to leaf through them. They were so different from all the books I had studied before, and they certainly didn’t belong in this world I was living now.
“Soon you will need such knowledge,” said the Mentor.
I wanted to ask him something, but his attention was fully on Alicia. He got down on his knees and stroked her. For a moment, I had a feeling they were talking.
That night, she came up to me and buried her nose in my neck.
“You want me to forgive you?” I asked.
She put her head on her paws, and her eyes were glistening in the darkness.
“Oh, you know I can’t stay mad at you forever,” I said, “but don’t bite me again, ok?”
She nodded and made a quiet sound.
“Missed you,” I said as I stroked her. Though she couldn’t answer, I was glad that she was near.
12
The next day began with another surprise. When I came down for breakfast, I found a boy sitting at the table. He was younger than me by two, maybe three years. His clothes were simple, a sweatshirt and jeans, but his face was unusual. There was something Eastern in it and at the same time something Western. He had black oriental eyes and high cheekbones, short raven hair and a tan, which one can get only in the southern latitudes. I’d never seen such a beautiful person before. He was eating rolled oats with an unbelievable appetite.
“Hallo,” I said in German.
He immediately stopped eating and looked at me. For some reason, he looked confused.
“Hello,” he said, but in English.
“Walter, this is Reeve.” The Mentor appeared as usual from out of nowhere, “Reeve Raven, my nephew. Reeve, this is Walter. I told you about him.”
Reeve nodded. His slightly slanted eyes were serious, and he didn’t smile, but he looked quite friendly. I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was relieved to see someone who was about my age; but on the other hand, I always felt some antipathy towards strangers. Moreover, it turned out that the Mentor had already spoken to him about me, but I knew nothing about him. I sat down and took my plate.
“Where are you from?” I asked in English.
Over the last few months, I had practised my English and