Parallel U. - Sophomore Year

by Dakota Rusk

  I felt a twitch in my shoulder as I hoisted my glass, and after I set it back down I reached up and lay my fingers there; the skin was still somewhat tender to the touch. I had been wounded, I remembered…when, and how, seemed suddenly murky to me. As did the period of my healing…

  But I had little enough time to consider it, because my uncle now continued his speech. “Thank you, Hermione. As it happens, I can bring you immediate gratification of your good wishes: for before I left the capital, I learned that I had been elected to replace Philippa Daciana at the end of her term of office, in two weeks’ time.”

  My mother set down her glass with such haste that wine sloshed over its sides; then, tossing propriety aside, she leapt from her chair, raced around the table, and threw her arms around my uncle’s neck.

  “I knew you would be consul one day!” she cried. “Haven’t I always said so, girls? For years I’ve been saying it, and now—” She was suddenly overcome by emotion, and could say no more.

  My uncle, pleased but embarrassed, gently extricated himself from her arms, kissed the knuckles of one of her hands, and sent her back to her seat. Then he looked at his fiancée, whose eyes had widened in surprise at this unseemly burst of emotion, and said, “You will have to accept, my dear, that we Greeks are an uninhibited race.”

  “We’re only half Greek,” Vipsania protested, as though fearful Paulina Prisca would think less of her.

  Uncle Cleopatros turned to her, his eyes twinkling. “And so only half as impulsive, then?” he asked. “That must be the half I read about in the news.”

  Vipsania blushed scarlet—and Drusilla as well, by association (her name had appeared in the gossip columns every bit as often); and fortunately Uriel Sapir chose this moment to laugh uproariously, which removed any possible sting of rebuke the girls might have felt. We were merely a family, warm and loving, affectionately teasing one another.

  Brynja entered and cleared away the plates, and as she did so my mother said, “Before we have the cake brought in, let’s pause to reflect on the meaning of Sol Invictus in our lives, as befits the occasion.” She wiped a remaining tear of joy from her eye with the corner of a napkin and said, “I invite you to do the honors, Cleopatros; though I beg you not to make me cry again. It will be the third time tonight, and my carefully applied face will be entirely washed away.”

  Uncle Cleopatros said, “If you don’t mine, Hermione, I have a special request from my future wife.”

  This was certainly unexpected. Everyone’s eyes turned to Paulina.

  She didn’t wilt beneath their gaze, as a lesser woman might have; but there was a hint of shyness as she turned—incredibly—to me.

  “I know this is very impertinent,” she said, “but I wonder if you might give the traditional meditation, Fabia.”

  “Me?” I asked, astonished.

  She nodded. “I’ve been such an admirer of yours, for so long—both for your triumphs in the arena and your great bearing and dignity outside it. And you’ve been so quiet tonight; I’d so hoped to hear you speak your mind. In fact I was counting on it.”

  I blinked. This great lady—this genuine Roman aristocrat, who in some senses might be said to be marrying beneath her by choosing an Egyptian-born Greek as a husband—was a fan of mine.

  I felt an immediate impulse to decline, to excuse myself from saying anything because I had nothing to say; but a quick, pleading look from Uncle Cleopatros changed my mind.

  “Very well,” I said. “Though I’m entirely unworthy.”

  “That’s not true,” Paulina said, her voice edged by excitement. “You must know it’s not true.”

  And yet…I was certain it was. I found myself remembering something—another incident, some days before—or had it been hours before?—when someone had asked me to explain the meaning of Sol Invictus—had asked me in a way that made it clear my very life might ride on my answer—and I had failed; mouthed a few stale clichés, then lost my voice entirely.

  Well, here was a chance to redeem myself. I looked around the table—and I knew, somehow, that what I was about to say would double as a farewell to these people; that whatever their final memories of me might be, this would be my final memory of them—and I began.

  “There’s an old adage that without darkness there can be no light; because a quality—a value—can only be known by juxtaposition to its opposite. That’s why the earliest Romans chose to celebrate Sol Invictus in the depths of winter, when the daylight hours had shrunk to a mere handful, and the sun’s warmth seemed completely withdrawn from the earth. To celebrate the Everlasting Sun at that time of year was to be more achingly aware of all He means to us; and more so, it was an act of hope—a profession of belief that He would return in time, and restore life and bounty to the world.”

  I paused. They were all watching me; not quite hanging on my words—I hadn’t yet said anything so very out of the ordinary as to inspire that—but appreciative, and eager to hear me conclude.

  “In the same way,” I said, “the things I’ve experienced in my own life—the failures, the losses; the times I’ve been uncertain of who I might be, or whether I’ve ever been who I say I am…all the battles I’ve won, but at too great a cost; all the friends I’ve betrayed through my weakness, and whose forgiveness I haven’t been able to believe I deserve…all the uncertainties and jealousies, the giving in to self-doubt and exhaustion…all of these things, which have so often hurled me into a pit of gloom so deep that nothing was visible, no way forward, no way out…all of those experiences reveal their value to me now, because without them I wouldn’t be so dazzled by the radiant, loving light that shines from each of your faces—a divine light that I know will see me through every one of my coming winters, and deposit me safely on its opposite shore, warmed and blessed and protected.”

  I’d finished; but no one spoke.

  I felt a blush coming on; I suddenly realized how far I’d deviated from what had been expected of me, which was no more than a few commonplace expressions of the kind everyone used on these occasions.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, looking at Paulina Prisca. “It’s just as my uncle said: we’re an impetuous race.”

  “No, no,” she said at once; “that was…very well said. I…I thank you for it.” She drew her arm through Uncle Cleopatros’s—a gesture of familiarity that might be considered shocking for a Roman lady among new acquaintances; and I realized that she wasn’t being polite—she’d been affected by my words.

  So had my mother, who I now saw was weeping openly. “Oh, dear,” she said, daubing at her eyes again. “There goes my face. I really can’t trust any of you as far as I can throw you.”

  Uriel Sapir laughed again, and once more that seemed to break the spell; my sisters joined in, and my uncle allowed himself a dignified smile; and then my mother called out, “Brynja, for heaven’s sake, bring in that cake before we all lose our heads and start crawling about on all fours.”

  The housekeeper rolled the cake in on a serving tray—though its scent (cinnamon and clove, ginger and apple)—reached us first. And as she made the first slices into it, to the admiration and applause of everyone at the table, I let my eyes fall shut—just for a moment—to thank whoever had given me this, allowed me this moment—this chance to be here with these exceptional people, instead of—

  —instead of where—Harsh, biting words jolted me out of the moment; I opened my eyes.

  I was in my dorm room at Parallel U.

  I should have been surprised by this; I should have been very surprised. But what struck me more immediately was the sight of Eddie, Merri, Gerrid, and Darius engaged in a full-throttle argument.

  “—oing back alone, if I have to,” Eddie was saying. “Hell’s wrong with you people? When did you become so heartless? So spineless?”

  “When did you become so stupid?” Merri retorted. “Ready to jump back into a volatile situation—a hunt, for God’s sake—a hunt for human beings—without even a plan?”

&nbs
p; “Plans take time! This is taking time! Fabia doesn’t have the luxury of—”

  I cleared my throat, then interjected: “Can I just say something?”

  Their heads all snapped in my direction—astonishment written on their faces in big, broad strokes.

  “I thought you said she couldn’t speak English,” said Gerrid.

  “She couldn’t,” Eddie protested. He looked at me. “You couldn’t!”

  “She couldn’t,” I said. “I can. But I’m here now, and she’s not.”

  Four sets of eyes bored into me like pile drivers.

  “I don’t get this,” Eddie said. “Which Fabia did I bring back from Parallel 17?”

  “The other one,” I said. “The one we just met.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Well, that would be you. Or rather, she would be you. Because she’s been sitting right where you are since we arrived, and now—”

  “And now I’m here instead,” I said. I looked down, and saw that I was wearing the other Fabia’s clothes. On a hunch, I touched my shoulder where I’d been hit by the arrow; no pain—no wound—nothing. “Actually, it seems to be more complicated than that.”

  Merri laughed. “Because it wasn’t complicated enough?”

  “So where’s the other Fabia?” Eddie asked. “Is she back at the hunt, then? With a bunch of slavering hounds running her down?”

  I shook my head. “She’s back at her mother’s house, having cake for Sol Invictus.” And probably wondering how she got there, I thought. And how she got a scar on her shoulder.

  Gerrid balled his fists in frustration. “None of this makes sense.”

  “I agree,” I said. “All I can tell you—all I’ve learned—is that there are bigger forces at work here than we had any idea of.”

  Eddie threw his hands in the air. “We’re talking about the multiverse! You think?”

  I felt a flash of irritation at his mockery, and was going to try to explain further…but the details were getting hazier with every passing second. Besides, one of the few things I remembered most clearly was that injunction: You must never speak of this. It’s forbidden, this interference.

  I stood up. “You’ve said it yourself,” I said, looking at Eddie. “The Veil is porous—its layers are as sheer as an onion’s. We pass between them without knowing, all the time. The parallel where we have lunch may not be the one where we had breakfast. Your exact words. Well, you brought the other Fabia back to Parallel U., and here I am standing in her skin. My question is, are you going to accept it, or are we all going to just keep hissing at each other like cats in heat?”

  They exchanged glances; but there was no challenge in them. They were asking each other permission to give in.

  Finally, Merri turned back to me and nodded.

  “I suppose at this point,” she said, “we need some kind of plan.”

  I gave her a big, bright smile. “Got one.”

  23

  “First,” I explained, “it’s pretty clear Jocasta Foxglove sent me to the splinter Parallel 24 because she knew there was already a Fabia Terentia there. The idea was, I’d stay long enough to shoot the video she needed as proof she could deliver what she’d promised; then Olwen would find a quiet place to kill me and dispose of my body, and no one would ever be the wiser. I wouldn’t even be reported as missing, because there’d be that other Fabia still alive and kicking.

  “Then,” I continued, “when the new term began, the witches would just tell everyone I’d decided to stay in my home parallel and continue my studies there. And that would be that; they’d have solved their Fabia Terentia problem.”

  Darius nodded. “But, they obviously haven’t. I mean…here you are.”

  “Exactly. But we can’t let her know that. I have to go into hiding. Everything depends on Jocasta thinking she’s succeeded.”

  “Why?” Merri asked, furrowing her brow. “Why not confront her now, and let her know we’re on to her?”

  “Because we aren’t. Not really. We still don’t know what she’s hoping to achieve. And we can’t really stop her until we’re sure of her ultimate goal. It’s better if she’s lulled into a false sense of security, so she can proceed with her plans, not knowing we’re watching her, analyzing every move she makes.”

  “But she’ll know something’s up when Olwen doesn’t report back,” said Gerrid, who was so agitated that he was up on his feet, pacing the room like a panther while the rest of sat clustered with our heads together.

  “I’ve thought of that,” I said, looking up at him. “And yes, that’s a problem. But we can reduce it to a smaller one simply by taking Olwen’s cell phone, with the video of my address to the student body, and leaving it on Jocasta’s desk. She’ll of course assume Olwen left it there. She’ll wonder why she didn’t hand it over in person; and when days pass with still no sign of Olwen, she’ll be increasingly confused—but a confused Jocasta is better than a Jocasta who knows for certain that something’s wrong.”

  Merri sat back in her chair. “All right…so you go into hiding. What then?”

  “Not just me,” I said, nodding my head towards Eddie. “Him, too.”

  “Me?” he said. “Geez, I just got free of that prison planet! Now you’re telling me I’ve gotta go underground—lurk in the shadows like some fugitive?”

  “Sorry, can’t be helped,” I said. “Didn’t you tell me that the witches visit you every few days to collect any completed Hoppers and feed you and take your laundry and whatever?”

  “Right. Exactly my point. They’ll know I’m gone anyway.”

  “But didn’t you tell me that their most recent visit was just before I found you?…How often do they show up, exactly?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not exact schedule. Usually every three, four days.”

  “So we’ve got that much time before they discover you’ve escaped their clutches. And in the meantime you and I will be free to snoop around in search of clues, because no one will even suspect we’re on campus.”

  Eddie broke into a grin, laced his fingers together and stretched his arms out, so that his knuckles all cracked. “Now that’s a plan! I’m up for some hackwork myself. Been too long since I jumped a firewall.”

  “That’s the spirit!” I said. “You’re a warrior too, though you’d never admit it.”

  He looked offended. “Hey! Daimon Seed is a regular digital Hercules, and don’t you forget it!”

  “You joke, but it’s true,” I insisted. “I know of no one whose spirit is more avid for battle than you.”

  He blushed and looked down at his shoes. It was a good sign; I was planning to do a number of impossible things over the next few days, and I’d just started off with an unexpected one: rendering Eddie Mason speechless.

  “I think we’re agreed in principle,” said Darius. “So the only remaining issue is a strategic one. Where do we put you two? There are more than six thousand people on campus. Almost anywhere is going to entail a risk of being seen…especially if you’re planning to go out investigating.”

  That seemed to stump everyone; and in fact I hadn’t really given much thought to that particular detail myself.

  Then Gerrid said, “The tunnels,” and we all looked up at him in amazement. Because of course it was the ideal solution; and Gerrid would know, since he was better acquainted with the tunnels in question than anyone else. Coming from a parallel where humanity was a nocturnal race, he was highly sensitive to sunlight—it scalded his skin and seared his retinae—and in order for him to get around campus in comfort, he’d been given permission to use the network of service tunnels that connected the basements of most of the university’s major buildings. He was more familiar with them than even the workers whose jobs involved unloading supplies or maintaining the various utilities, because they confined themselves to the specific areas assigned to them, whereas Gerrid had come to know every nook and cranny.

  “There are several forgotten storage rooms that would work,” he said. “In fact, ther
e’s one between the library and Koyabashi Hall that would make it easier for you to access the President’s office after hours—if that’s required.”

  “It’s really forgotten?” I asked. “No one ever uses it?”

  He shook his head. “There’s just a bunch of broken office furniture and other stuff, under a thick layer of dust; I suppose it’s all awaiting some eventual repair that’s going to remain forever at the bottom of the university’s priority list.” He smiled wistfully. “It’s so far off the beaten path that it did have a reputation, for a while, as a make-out spot; but after the first two or three times I accidentally stumbled into some eager young lovers on their way there, no one seems to use it for that anymore.”

  We shouldn’t have laughed, but we did; and even Gerrid himself seemed to think it was at least wryly funny. Among the less sophisticated students, he was widely believed to be a vampire; and probably nothing could annihilate young lust more completely than the sight of his pale face and long canine teeth suddenly appearing out of the darkness.

  “It sounds just perfect; we’ll take it,” said Eddie. Then he turned to me and said, “Ready to move in when you are. Just don’t ask me to carry you across the threshold.”

  “I’ll carry you,” I said. “And drop you into the furnace, if you’re not careful.”

  We were getting a little giddy, enjoying being so furtive and sly; it was like the old days—freshman year come back again. We were tight; a unit; a team. I hadn’t felt so connected to these people in ages.

  Perhaps inevitably, Darius brought the mood back down. “What about Valery?” he asked. “Do we include him in this? He can be a valuable ally.”

  Merri scowled. “I’d like to,” she said; “but…frankly, I’m just not sure how valuable an ally he can be since he resigned the presidency. He’s just another staff member now. And even worse, he’s terrible at lying. If he were involved with us, and Jocasta got wind of it and questioned him…”