Overheard in a Dream (25 page)

“Medical school was when it all really came together for me,” Laura said. “My undergraduate years had felt free simply because home had been such a cage, but I outgrew college quite quickly. My focus shifted and I became an increasingly serious student. Because I was doing it for Torgon, classes meant more to me than just grades. I really felt motivated to learn the stuff. So it got annoying when other people were farting around, getting drunk, making noise in the middle of the night. I’m an eight-hour-a-night girl. Without it I can’t concentrate. So if people were making noise and I didn’t sleep well, it meant I couldn’t focus in class but it also meant I couldn’t focus on writing.

“Medical school was entirely different. Everybody was serious there. It also meant having my own place for the first time. I was twenty-two and my first apartment was dark and dinky and up five flights of stairs, but I loved it for just that reason. It was a regeneration of my attic bedroom on Kenally Street, only this time without Steven Mecks.

“Studying medicine was just so fantastic. I had chosen medicine because of that child with the cleft palate in Torgon’s world, and that inspiration was burning so brightly by the time I got to med school. I was able to relate everything I studied to Torgon, to societies like hers where people died from easily preventable causes. Wonderful plans were beginning to form in the back of my mind. When I finished my degree I decided I would go abroad to work in the Third World, and this would bring to reality what I’d been overhearing in dreams all my life. It just seemed so right to do this, such a complete full circle. Torgon had given me a deep awareness of the importance of medicine and I, in turn, would bring this knowledge back to people like hers. This gave a powerful sense of meaning to my life. Torgon was no longer a silly fantasy, or worse, a form of mental illness. She was a muse, an inspiration directing me to a vocation. A calling. Isn’t that what the word ‘vocation’ really means? And how can you be ‘called’ without hearing a voice?

“I don’t think I was ever so happy as I was in those first two years of med school. During my classes and seminars I would consciously pull Torgon into my mind and try to see it through her eyes. How would this information look to someone who was not literate? Who had never seen an operating theatre? Who had no recourse to antibiotics? How would she evaluate it? How could she use it? When I looked at things that way, everything stood out in such clear detail. Through her eyes, everything was new and incomprehensibly fascinating. School became almost a spiritual experience for me.”

James had got into the habit of opening the folder of Torgon stories as soon as Laura’s session had ended and reading. In the beginning, he’d read whole stories at a time, soaking up thirty or forty atmospheric pages of life in Torgon’s rigid tribal society. Of late, however, he’d been rationing them. There were only about a hundred of the dog-eared, typewritten pages left, so he tried to restrict himself to only four or five at a time.

Now he opened it where he had last left off, and began to read.

During the month of deep snow, Torgon was awakened in the night by distressed crying from the acolytes’ quarters. Someone was ill
.

She remained in her bed and listened. The health of the acolytes was the Seer’s domain, not hers. She wasn’t expressly forbidden to come into the presence of an ill person, but as she was divine, it was assumed she wouldn’t wish to taint herself. Consequently, no one expected her to leave her cells
.

At first she didn’t. The Power was stirring, as it often did when she awoke in the night, stirring and turning, as if making itself comfortable within her body, much as she imagined an unborn child must do within its mother
.

What came to her as she lay in the darkness was the image of the moon-kissed child. More than three years had passed since the baby had been put to death, but the child’s shade still lingered near, something Torgon never dared mention to the Seer. And it came now, wandering into her mind as a girl of five or six, smiling, her mouth healed to naught but a crooked line
. Like the line on the belly of the hare,
Torgon thought
.

Could lips and palate be sewn back together? As with the abdominal skin? Like a flint struck in darkness, the idea sparked
through Torgon’s mind. Was there a real possibility of repairing a moon kiss with a weapon no greater than a needle and a thread? She tried to visualize the act
.

A sudden clamour outside in the corridor dissolved the vision
.

One of the holy women was hurrying down the corridor, a basin of steaming water in her arms. A gaggle of acolytes came trotting after. “Holy benna, we have awakened you,” she said. “I’m so sorry.” She dipped her head in a brief gesture of obeisance
.

“What’s happening among the acolytes?”

“One has fallen ill with the retching illness.”

“Take me there.”

“The Seer is already with her, holy benna. Do you not think it better you should remain here? You would not wish to take the illness yourself.”

The Power stirred, interfering with Torgon’s view of the woman. “No,” she replied. “It is Dwr’s will that I go.”

A murmur of surprise ran through the throng of children when Torgon entered. They knelt quickly in obeisance. Beyond them in the second row of pallets the Seer was beside a young girl clad in the night garments of a high-born child. Torgon came nearer to see that it was Loki, the warrior’s daughter
.

The Seer already had holy candles lit. With his fingers he dripped cleansing oils into the small flames. The oil’s astringent scent mingled with the sour smell of vomit
.

The girl was as pale as a ghost, her eyes dull and dark in the wan light of the holy candles. Nonetheless, she managed a flicker of a smile on seeing Torgon. “I am honoured by your presence, holy benna,” she murmured, “but I am sorry, for I cannot do you obeisance.”

“I’m sure it is in your heart to do it, Loki,” Torgon said, and pulled over one of the low stools.

The Seer reached a hand out to prevent her from sitting. “It would be better if you are not so close. She has grown sorely ill and the candles have not burned for long.”

Ignoring him, Torgon sat anyway. “How old are you now, Loki
?”

“I’ve seen thirteen summers pass, holy benna.”

Torgon reached forward and stroked back the girl’s dark hair. “You are very hot. How long have you felt ill? For when I saw you at your prayers this evening, I noted nothing wrong.”

“My stomach has been vaguely sore a day or two, but I have not felt ill. It only comes upon me now and gives such pain. It makes me bring my stomach up, but even afterwards there is no relief from it.”

Torgon could hear the wise woman in the corridor. She wore all her jingles and rattles tied around her waist so that a cacophony of sound preceded her arrival
.

The Seer bent close. “Come away now, holy one. The wise woman is here to draw the evil spirits forth.”

“I wish to remain.”

The wise woman approached the pallet. Her dark hair was oiled and scented and bound up in numerous tiny braids. Her face was painted brightly with many colours to warn the evil spirits of her previous successes. Bending over Loki she spread her hands wide, the fingers splayed, and began the ritual movements necessary to locate where in the child’s body the evil spirits dwelled. As she found each place, she set a small iron amulet over it. When all nine were placed, she untied a huge red rattle and began to shake it rhythmically. She closed her eyes and crooned for the birds of night to come and fetch away the spirits
.

Torgon watched her intently. There was no holiness in the wise woman. She drew her powers from the dead and it was well known that wise women had no souls
.

“Divine benna, come
away
now,” the Seer whispered. “It is not seemly that you should sit so close to her when she is at her magic. Besides, I wish to talk to you.”

Rising reluctantly, Torgon withdrew to the altar room with the Seer. “Yes? What would you say
?”

“Your time would be better spent in prayer at the altar. I have felt the child’s belly and fear there is naught the wise woman can do for her. It is in my mind that she has swallowed a plum stone.”

“What? Surely not.”

“Aye,” he said. “For it always comes as this – a pain here where the stone catches, a fever, death – I have seen it several times before. Her pain is so sudden and so acute that I fear even now the evil spirits have broken free of the plum stone to rule her body.” His expression grew sad. “It shall be a sorrow to her father, for he has always been greatly fond of her. As of this winter, his wife has given him his sixth son, but she remains his only daughter.”

“Is it certain she will die?” Torgon asked
.

“Aye, when the plum stone becomes trapped, it rots and that attracts the evil spirits. The wise woman will try to draw them forth but I’ve never seen her master these. They lie deep within the body and can resist her charms.”

Torgon looked pensive
.

“Come. We shall pray together at the altar for the safe passage of her soul.”

“No,” she said.

The Seer looked puzzled
.

“No. I don’t think it’s as you say,” Torgon murmured. “For why would she have swallowed a plum stone now, when winter is so deep? We are well past the time of plums.”

“A stone will sometimes be missed when the plums are being dried. Or perhaps she swallowed it in summer and it was slow to rot. The weather, as you know, has been very cold this year.”

“This offends my reason,” Torgon replied. “For as I think more upon it, it’s in my mind that Loki does not like the taste of plums. Why then would she have any cause to swallow up the stone
?”

The Seer shook his head. “I do not know the answers, holy benna. I only know what I have learned from long experience and this serves me well. So we must leave the wise woman to her rattles. The time has come for you and me to pray.”

“No. Dwr bids me stay beside the girl.” And she left the altar room
.

Moving through the small crowd gathered around the young girl’s pallet, Torgon knelt beside Loki. “The Seer fears you have been eating wild plums.”

Grown tearful with the pain, Loki struggled to keep her composure. “No. No, holy benna, I have touched no wild plums.”

“I know the storeroom is a great temptation. And wild plums, especially when they’re dried, are very sweet. It is in my heart to understand how much a child loves sweetness. I wouldn’t be angry with you, Loki, if you were to tell me now you did not resist.”

“But I ate no wild plums at any time. I don’t like them.”

Torgon nodded. “Very well. Then may I lay my hands upon you
?”

The Power swelled abruptly as Torgon’s fingers touched the young girl’s skin. Her eyes went blind to the grey stone walls, flickering in the candlelight. What rose instead was the image of Loki lying on a white surface, her abdomen open like the abdomen of the dog
. Each part in its own kingdom,
the Power whispered
.

The girl shrieked in pain when Torgon pressed into the lower left of her body and the noise wrenched Torgon sharply from the trance. Momentarily disoriented, she shook her head to clear it
.

“Stop! It hurts too much!” Loki’s hands were on her wrist. “Please, oh holy benna, stop!”

The Seer pushed through the group. “Holy benna, this is unseemly. Come away. The evil spirits will taint you. Turn your mind from this. It isn’t your domain.”

The Power fingered back into Torgon’s mind, making it difficult to concentrate on what the Seer said
. The body of the dog. Each to its own kingdom. Walk among the kingdoms. Heal a moon kiss with no greater weapon than a needle and a thread,
the Power whispered
.

The iron amulets had fallen from Loki’s body during Torgon’s exploration, so the wise woman leaned down and picked them up again. Replacing them on Loki’s abdomen, she raised a long string of bells and clashed them noisily
.

Torgon couldn’t make sense of anything when her attention was pulled in so many directions. She pressed her hands to the sides of her head and turned in irritation. “Silence!” The wise woman didn’t hear her and clanged her bells again. “Silence!” Torgon shouted
.

Everything then fell abruptly still, save the Power, thrumming in her head. The acolytes froze, wide-eyed. The Seer’s mouth fell open. The wise woman clapped the noisemakers tight against her generous bosom
.

“Get out,” Torgon said to the wise woman. “Such noise may drive off evil spirits but it is offending Dwr as well.”

The wise woman lowered her bells. Her painted face rendered the nuances of her expressions unreadable, but her eyes rolled white like a frightened calf’s. There was a long, uncertain moment, as she looked from the Seer to Torgon and back again, but then she nodded and backed away from the bed
.