Chương 68: Book 2, Chapter 7: Hourglass

Aperiantur oculi mentis," Clara chanted. The ametrine flared into life, pulling her magical energy. Her vision shifted. The cabin lost some of its color, gaining a translucent overlay reminiscent of night vision. The brass lamp above the table shone softly with the steady glow of whatever cheap enchantment kept it lit, and the porthole's glass carried a thin layer of magical reinforcement against the pressure of the sea.

In fact, all parts of the ship, from the cabin's frame to the heavy door to the bolts on the floor, were traced in a faint light. But there was nothing faint about the energy around Iris. Slow and methodical, like grains of sand falling through an hourglass, radiant golden particles of magical energy flowed into Iris's body from all around her. Clara tried to look for a source, but the magic was apparently just materializing from thin air.

Her fingers tightened around her wand, and she dispelled the vision before her head started aching. Clara wasn't anywhere near as good as Morris with this spell, and she'd already learned how much it could hurt if she held it for too long.

"My lady?" Iris's eyes were still blank. A part of Clara had been hoping—stupidly, in retrospect—that what had happened at the Plaza had been a fluke. But here it was, undeniable. Someone was doing something. Either to Iris, or to anyone who discovered the truth about Stella—it was hard to say which. As for who was behind it, Clara had no way of knowing for now. It could even be the Goddess herself, with how golden it was. Wasn't that how these stories went sometimes?

Clara reached across the table and took Iris's hands. The girl's fingers were limp, the way someone's hand is when they're asleep, not when they're frozen mid-thought.

"Lady Iris. Come back." Iris blinked, then tilted her head.

"Well, how much longer do you intend to keep me in suspense, Clara? Whatever you want to tell me, spit it out." Let's try a different angle.

"My lady, I'd like to tell you about a girl named Stella. She spent most of her life in Saintess Brigid's House for Orphans until she was hired as a maid for House von Rhenia." Iris listened. But as soon as Clara made the connection between Stella and herself, Iris's eyes went blank again.

Her mouth, which had been open to ask something—probably along the lines of 'Clara, why are you wasting my valuable time telling me about some unknown servant girl, and no it doesn't matter that I'm aboard a ship and have nothing else to be doing, my time is still valuable'—hung open. Clara let go of Iris's hand. She wanted to see how long the cycle would last without interference. The same as before. Roughly thirty seconds.

Clara tried again twice, wording things slightly differently each time—she didn't even mention the name Stella the second time—but it seemed that whatever force was being exerted on Iris absolutely blocked her from learning anything about Stella's connection to Clara, or about the fact that Clara was a transmigrator. Her mind went back to Leofric's interrogation of her at the cottage. The high inquisitor, at least, seemed to have no trouble accepting the knowledge that she came from a different world.

That means either the magic only affects Iris, or Leofric was somehow immune to it. Clara would have to test this more later, probably with Professor Morris around. For now, she didn't want to keep putting Iris through this loop when she had no idea if there were side effects or other potential dangers, especially given it seemed to be some form of memory magic. Clara would never forgive herself if her actions led to a Memory Void. So, it was time to try something different.

It's a good thing lawyers know a thing or two about working around arbitrary and convoluted restrictions.

"Lady Iris, I trust you remember my memory issues?" Iris pursed her lips.

"Yes, of course."

"The truth is, a few months ago, I started having… recollections. Of a past life." Clara observed Iris's face as she spoke, looking for any signs of magical interference. But the girl's eyes remained sharp, and Clara continued.

"They came to me all at once, right before the trial at the High Court. It was a dream so long and so vivid that I felt like I'd lived a whole other life. I don't fully understand it myself. I don't know if it was some sort of gift from the Goddess. Or perhaps a curse, depending on the day." She allowed herself a rueful smile.

"What I do know is that those memories feel real to me, and they shaped who I am now. And not only that, but I believe that was the reason I had lost my prior memories of this life—my senses must have been overloaded with this foreign past." Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

"I see," said Iris slowly.

"You say had lost. Does that mean you've remembered now?" Clara nodded.

"After I was healed from Leofric's dark magic," she said, purposefully leaving out Helena's miracle to avoid upsetting Iris, "I regained my memories of this life, too. Which is why there's something important I have to say." She stood up and curtsied deeply to Iris.

"My lady, I owe you an apology."

"What for?"

"For conspiring against you. It turns out I—or, well, the person who I was before I regained the memories of my past life—was involved in a conspiracy against House von Rhenia. Against you, specifically. Father Leofric… He was one of the people who ran the orphanage I lived at, and he raised me to be used against your house. He told me to give you the idea of poisoning Helena, and then to secretly mix in more dangerous herbs with the laxatives. I am truly sorry, Lady Iris.

Because of me, you were almost convicted of a crime you didn't commit." Iris was silent for a long moment. Clara almost thought she'd gone blank again, but the alertness never left her eyes. She motioned for Clara to sit back down in her chair. After Clara did as she was told, Iris rose, moving to the vanity next to the porthole and pulling a hairbrush from the top drawer.

A moment later, Iris's gentle hand settled at the base of Clara's neck, gathering her hair, and the familiar pull of the brush began to work its way through the strands. Oh. Clara's breath caught in her throat. She was expecting Iris to feel upset or betrayed, not this.

"My lady, this isn't—""Hush," said Iris.

"It has been a while since we've last done this, but surely not so long that we need to go through this song and dance of objections and appropriateness again." Clara closed her eyes.

"You know, Clara, I've had a great deal to consider over the past month. Ricardo's death. Your decision to defend Rowena. The incident with Helena, later. But the worst of all of those was looking at you lying there, with that purple thing crawling up your arm. For a second, I thought I was going to lose you because I had been too proud to listen."

"My lady—""Don't interrupt your liege. Former liege, I suppose. I am working through something." Clara held her tongue.

"Papa wrote many letters to me since their departure to the capital. He told me what really happened with the high inquisitor, and the depths of depravity that man had sunk to. He also told me of a joint operation between the royal family and House von Rhenia to investigate abuses in Church-run orphanages, and the myriad of sordid tales of misery they uncovered. That Leofric used children to strike at people he did not have the courage to strike at openly, including one particular child."

Iris kept brushing as she spoke.

"Papa did not have to tell me everything, but he did. He said I deserve to know what kind of enemies our house has been dealing with, and what kind of person had been forced to serve as their instrument." Iris's hand rested on Clara's shoulder." Forced, Clara. That was the word Papa used, and Papa does not waste words. And I, for one, am inclined to agree with his characterization." So Iris already knew about what Stella had done.

For several days now, maybe even weeks, while Iris was relentlessly trying to convince me to come back into her service, she already knew. I guess I really shouldn't have been so scared of this conversation in the first place.

"Lady Iris," Clara whispered.

"I am not finished. I have been waiting for you to come forward for a while now, and I will deliver my speech in full, or I shall be very put out." Clara couldn't help but let out a laugh that came out more like a sob. In just a few short months, Iris had grown so much. Iris sniffled.

"Now, where was I?"

"Forced."

"Ah, yes. So I have given the matter due consideration, and I have reached my conclusions. They are as follows. First—whatever you have done under Leofric's orders, whether you remember it or not, can hardly be attributed to someone who was manipulated and tortured for years. Second—when the moment came, when Leofric's plans were about to come to fruition and drive an irreparable wedge between House von Rhenia and the Kingdom, it was you, Clara, who stood up in defiance, ensuring his failure at the High Court.

And third—it was thanks to your actions at Dame Rowena's trial that the high inquisitor was brought out of the shadows, and that Papa was finally able to move against the conspiracy." Iris swallowed hard.

"So when I think about who I am cross with, and where my rightful anger ought to go, it is not you. Yes, it hurts me to know that you tried to manipulate me. It also hurts me to find out that you've had these memories of another life for months now, and neglected to tell me. I am, in fact, quite cross with you about that, though I have so far done a splendid job of being graceful. And so, for that, and only that, I shall gracefully receive your apology, and you will be required to atone for it."

"…How?"

"By submitting to your liege's—former liege's, I really must stop saying that, I suppose—by submitting to my company for the remainder of this voyage. You will join me for tea every afternoon. You will eat with me. You will go shopping with me in Istantinople, and help me pick out a wonderful selection of rugs to present to Papa and Mama. And you will do all that while dressed properly, in accordance with my exacting standards." A laugh burst out of Clara, surprising them both.

"Those are my terms," said Iris primly, putting the brush down and taking her seat again.

"They are exceedingly generous and non-negotiable, of course."

"My lady."

"Yes?"

"I accept. Thank you."

"Hmph. As you should." Iris raised her chin. But her attempt at a serious, proud face was summarily betrayed by the tears welling up under her eyes.

"Now, there is something else. Are you absolutely certain you remember memories of a past life, Clara?"

"Yes, my lady. It's very vivid to me. In that life, I was a lawyer, an advocate. The Blessing of Truth didn't exist, you see, and I—and others like me—did a really good job of figuring out how to work around that fact."

"Ah, and I suppose that is why you've become so insistent on this 'law firm' of yours. But we'll get to that. First, have you told anyone about this?"

"Not yet. I wanted you to be the first to know." At that, Iris smiled mischievously.

"Oh ho ho. Excellent. I can already imagine it."

"Imagine what, my lady?"

"Prince Lochlann's face, of course. When he learns you might also be a Saintess. After all, if he can have one, why shouldn't I have one, too?" Huh?