Time's Children

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Time's Children Page 32

by D. B. Jackson


  “You do have the look of one.”

  “Of a Northisler, you mean.”

  She conceded the point with a lift of one shoulder. “Your color serves you well. Most would think you and the princess belong together.”

  A faint smile crossed his lips. Not long ago by his reckoning, though in his own time, he would have been flattered.

  “How did you get her out of the castle?”

  “Luck, and desperation. I was there when Mearlan and the others died. I was hurt, and so was the princess. I heard her crying, and I… I fought our way free before Mearlan’s killers found her.”

  “Did you have to kill?” she asked, her tone gentle.

  He nodded again.

  “The Two will understand, and forgive. You were saving her life, and your own.”

  What about when I killed that boy? Will they understand that, too? He kept this to himself.

  Perhaps she sensed his unease. She started toward a small door along the side of the apse, motioning for him to follow. “Do you have any coin?” she asked as they walked, their footsteps echoing. “Weapons?”

  “Weapons. In the sack Jivv and Elinor brought. I also have some items I can trade, but no coin.”

  “Good. Coin we can provide. Weapons would have been more difficult.” They stepped back into the mist. “What kind of Traveler are you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t take her with me using those powers.”

  She watched him, silent.

  “I’m a Walker.”

  “So you came back in time?”

  “Yes. Mearlan asked me… He needed a Walker, and he got me.”

  Nuala halted. So did Tobias.

  “How far back did you come?”

  “Please don’t make me tell you more.”

  The look she gave him conveyed such sympathy that his eyes brimmed. He muttered a curse. Grown men weren’t supposed to cry so much.

  Nuala walked on, and he fell in step beside her. For her part, Sofya chattered and pointed at the torches, happily unmindful of the dangers lurking beyond the sanctuary walls.

  “Let’s find you some food,” the priestess said. “Then I want you to rest a bit more, even if it means more of the healer’s draught. If you’re to leave us so soon, I want you as mended as possible.”

  “Yes, Mother Priestess,” he said, content for the moment to be treated like a child.

  Chapter 28

  26th Day of Sipar’s Settling, Year 633

  Orzili couldn’t blame his men, not without shouldering a considerable amount of blame himself. It had never occurred to him that there might be another way into – or out of – Hayncalde’s dungeon. A miscalculation. Passageways and tunnels ran beneath many of these old cities. He should have thought to search.

  Though even if he had, they might not have found it. The entry was nearly impossible to spot. Three times he and his men scoured this foul place before they did so. Even now, staring at the stone wall in the bright flicker of half a dozen torches, he could barely make out the contours of the doorway.

  They had tried to follow the twists and turns of the tunnels. After a distance of perhaps a thousand hands, they were blocked by an iron door. Locked, naturally. Probably there were ten more between here and wherever they had taken the Walker. The old Hayncaldes had been clever.

  He would have wagered every round he had that Tobias was in the sanctuary. No one else in the city had the wherewithal to rescue and protect him.

  He thought he could convince Noak Sheraigh to let him enter the sanctuary grounds and take the Walker. If he was right, the clerics had violated Sheraigh law, an act of defiance that might justify any number of reprisals. The new sovereign, he knew, had no affection for Siparites.

  If he wanted Noak’s permission, though, he would have to Span to Sheraigh, and he had no desire to submit to the fool if he didn’t have to. The priestess wouldn’t allow Tobias to remain there forever, and when he left the temple grounds he would be at the mercy of the lanes and Sheraigh’s soldiers.

  In the meantime, Orzili would double, or perhaps triple, the bounty on Tobias’s head. The Walker wouldn’t remain free for long.

  His men watched him, silent, waiting for an explosion of temper.

  “There’s nothing more we can do,” he said, his tone level. “We’ll find him. I promise. For now, leave everything down here. When he’s ours again, we’ll continue where we left off.”

  “Yes, my lord,” said one of them, speaking for the others.

  “In the meantime…” He shrugged. “Find yourselves a tavern, and enjoy a night off.”

  They exchanged glances, surprised by this.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Orzili spun away and climbed the stairs out of the dungeon, glad to be free of the place for a short while.

  He returned to his chamber in the castle, but then bypassed his own door and approached Lenna’s.

  Separate chambers had been her idea. Starting their first night away from Kantaad, she had insisted that they keep their distance from each other.

  “The man I love waits for me in my own time,” she said. “And the woman who loves you is back in Fanquir.”

  That night he had tried to convince himself that he didn’t mind. His Lenna was younger, more beautiful, more alluring.

  As their time together went on, though, his attraction for this Lenna grew, deepened, until it weighed on his every thought. She was still beautiful, less perfect perhaps, but more compelling and exotic. She was older, wiser, with qualities the younger one lacked. Her mind was more agile, her thinking more nuanced, her humor both gentler and more incisive. The years had both softened and strengthened her. He loved her more than ever.

  Upon arriving in Daerjen, he tried repeatedly to seduce her. Always she refused him. Resentment crept into their interactions, his from being spurned, hers from being hounded.

  After a qua’turn of this, she threatened to Walk back to her own time.

  “Why do you refuse me?” he demanded of her. “We’ve been together for most of our lives.”

  “Not like this. It would be a betrayal of the younger me, and the older you. I won’t do it. Ask me again, and I swear to you I’ll leave.”

  “You can’t. I need you here. Until the Walker is dead, I need to know that we can pursue him through time.”

  “Then don’t pursue me anymore.”

  He gave his word, reluctantly. Since that time they had fought less. He had been busy with Mearlan and his Walker. The assassination, the search for Tobias, the torture. These had consumed his days and nights, which was probably just as well.

  On this day, though, he knocked on her door. She needed to know of Tobias’s escape. That was what he told himself.

  At her response from within, he opened the door and entered.

  Lenna sat by the hearth, elegant in an aqua gown, a book in her hands. She set the volume aside, gestured at the chair beside hers.

  “Word is he escaped,” she said as he sat.

  He scowled. “This castle has ears. And too many wagging tongues.”

  She watched him, expectant.

  “Yes, he escaped. Someone spirited him from the dungeon through tunnels that run under the city.”

  “Remnants of Mearlan’s court?”

  “Maybe. Or servants of the God.”

  “Either way, you should send me back. I can warn you, prevent the escape.”

  “No.” He spoke without thought, his reaction to her suggestion visceral.

  She knew him well. “It’s a day, two at the most. It hardly matters given how far I’ve come.”

  “It’s not necessary.” I won’t spend any more of your life. “He won’t escape the city. He can’t get away from me.”

  “Conceit?”

  “Confidence.”

  “Arrogance.”

  “Resolve.”

  She shrugged, surrender in the gesture. “I suppose he shouldn’t be too hard to find. Especially if he has the princess.”
/>
  “He does. I’m sure of it.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  He eyed her sidelong, an eyebrow raised. “You doubt me?”

  “Never,” she said, and smiled. His heart turned over.

  “I do think, though,” she went on, “that you should reconsider your tactics.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Torturing the lad to within an inch of his life isn’t going to make me any younger.”

  He scowled, braced his hands on the arms of his chair, intending to stand. She laid cool fingers on one hand, stopping him.

  “My men should know better than to talk about what we do down there.”

  “Your men didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to. The boy’s screams speak volumes.”

  He wouldn’t look at her. “He has information I need.”

  “I know. And I expect you to extract it. But you should ask yourself: are you hurting him to get that information? Or are you punishing him because he came back so many years, and I had to follow?”

  “Why do you care about him?”

  Her laugh was as deep and rich as the finest Miejan red. “I don’t, foolish man. I care about you.” Her smile dissolved. “What you’re doing to him will tear at your soul for the rest of your life.”

  How could he answer. He knew she was right, just as he knew that he couldn’t help himself. Yes, he sought the princess. She had to die. But he couldn’t deny that he also wanted the boy to suffer. Years had been stolen from them, by Mearlan, by Pemin, by this Walker. Mearlan was already dead, and the autarch would forever be beyond his reach. But he could strike back at the boy.

  “I have wondered,” she said, after a brief silence, “why he hasn’t gone back to fix all of this. That’s what I would have done that first night. As soon as Mearlan was killed and the girl orphaned, I would have gone back a bell or a day or a turn – whatever it took to set things right. Why hasn’t he?”

  It was a question he hadn’t thought to ask himself. Or the Walker.

  “He must have lost his chronofor,” she went on. “Maybe it was broken, or maybe it was taken from him. That’s the only explanation that makes any sense.”

  He couldn’t question her logic. “In which case,” he said, “he would be trapped in this time.”

  “Yes. And you would no longer need me here.”

  Their eyes met, locked. Her expression remained maddeningly placid. He thrust himself out of his chair.

  “We know nothing for certain.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Until we do, we shouldn’t make any rash decisions.”

  “I want to go back.”

  He flinched at the words. In all their exchanges, even the least pleasant, she hadn’t said this so baldly.

  “I miss you. The you I left in the future. The one I love. The fact that you love me here and now, gives me hope that this other you will love me when I return. So I’m asking you: please, let me go.”

  “You don’t need my permission.”

  “No, I don’t. But I won’t leave without it. We have a task to complete, and I intend to see it through. You know better than I what needs doing, and how you might use me to capture the Walker and the princess. So I’m relying on you to be honest with me. I won’t leave until you say I can, but I beg you, when I can go, tell me as much.”

  He didn’t answer right away.

  “I’m waiting for you in Kantaad,” she said. “The young, pretty me I saw leave our home that first morning. That Lenna needs you, and you need her.”

  “Yes, all right. I’ll… I’ll let you know as soon as you can Walk back. You have my word.”

  He didn’t quite meet her gaze, and he left before she could say more.

  Chapter 29

  28th Day of Sipar’s Settling, Year 633

  Even without another cup of the healer’s foul elixir, Tobias was ready to return to his bed the moment he finished his meal. He changed Sofya’s swaddling again, placed her in her cradle, and plodded back to his chamber.

  He slept well into the following day, roused by the sound of tolling bells. He swung himself out of bed and walked down the corridor to check on the princess.

  Her cradle was empty.

  Panic seized him. Ignoring the dull discomfort in his knees, he sprinted from the chamber, down the stairs, and out into the courtyard. Seeing no one, he faltered. He was unfamiliar with the layout of the sanctuary, and didn’t know how someone might bear the princess past the sanctuary guards.

  He ran toward the spires looming above the other structures. As he came around a bend in the path, he heard a child’s laugh.

  Turning, he spotted Sofya in the arms of a young woman he didn’t know. He strode in their direction, fists clenched, pain forgotten.

  The woman smiled at his approach, but then quailed at his expression.

  “Who are you?” he demanded, halting directly in front of her. “What are you doing with her?”

  She wore gray robes – an initiate perhaps. She had blue eyes and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen.

  Mara’s age.

  “I– I heard her crying, and no one else was nearby. I just brought her outside to stop her tears. And I changed her swaddling. That’s all.”

  Sofya appeared to be fine. More than fine. She grinned and reached for him, opening and closing her tiny hands.

  Tobias took a long breath, looked away. After a moment, he closed his eyes and ran a hand through the tangle of his hair. He needed to bathe, to change his clothes. But first…

  “Forgive me,” he said, meeting the girl’s troubled gaze. “I– I found her room empty, and I was afraid. I shouldn’t have… You did nothing wrong.”

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  She held Sofya out to him, and after the briefest of hesitations, he took her.

  “Thank you. Again, I’m sorry.”

  Her smile was strained. “She’s quite beautiful. How old is she?”

  Tobias opened his mouth, closed it again. He should have had an answer at the ready. He was supposed to be her father.

  “Nearly a year,” he said, hoping his uncertainty wasn’t too obvious. “The time goes by quickly.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Footfalls on the path made both of them turn. Nuala walked toward them, her brow creased.

  “What’s happened?”

  The initiate sent a quick look Tobias’s way.

  “Nothing at all,” he said. “This young woman was kind enough to take care of my daughter as I slept the morning away.”

  Nuala frowned, but dipped her chin. “Thank you, Inva. You may go.”

  The girl bowed to Tobias and then to Nuala before withdrawing.

  When she was gone, Nuala quirked an eyebrow.

  “She did nothing wrong,” Tobias said softly. “When Sofya wasn’t in her room, I panicked. She probably thought it odd. Too odd.”

  “I’ll speak with her. She’s smart and discreet. It will be all right.”

  “Thank you.”

  They began to walk. The skies remained cloudy, the air heavy with mist and the scent of brine.

  “I’ve sent someone to make inquiries at the wharf,” the priestess said. “I hope to secure passage for you aboard a ship before the end of the day.”

  Uncertainty flooded his mind again. “Passage to where?”

  “Away from here. Where doesn’t matter. Not now. You can choose later where you wish to settle. My only concern is getting you both out of Hayncalde, unharmed and undetected.”

  “The items I have to trade might not be enough for transit–”

  “We have gold. Enough for you, and enough to pay your passage.”

  “Thank you,” Tobias said, subdued.

  “Your gratitude is premature. You aren’t out of Hayncalde yet.” Seeing his frown, she added, “The wharves are guarded by Sheraigh men. Getting you on a ship won’t be easy, but we’ll manage it. You have my
word.”

  “Again, my thanks.”

  She made a small motion with her hand. Acknowledgment, dismissal. “I have duties that will occupy much of my day. You and the princess should return to your chamber. I trust all who dwell here, but the less that’s known about you, the better for all.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. I’ll bring word as soon as I hear something from the waterfront. In the meantime, I’ll have food sent to you.”

  She started away.

  “Does whoever you sent to the wharves know who we are?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I trust her more than I do anyone else in this city. She wouldn’t betray us.”

  “Very well.”

  She spoke with confidence, but as she walked on, her brow furrowed again.

  Tobias carried Sofya back to his chamber. Soon, a servant brought food. Tobias ate a bit; the princess gorged herself. He didn’t know when she’d eaten last. Something else for him to learn and remember. He could eat as opportunity allowed; she needed to eat regularly.

  I can’t do this.

  He heard Elinor’s voice in his mind answer, What choice do you have?

  “I’ll get you back here eventually,” Tobias whispered to the princess. “You have my word on that. This is your land. Someday you’ll rule Daerjen, just as you were meant to.”

  Sofya grabbed a fistful of his shirt and sucked her thumb.

  They spent the rest of the morning, and another bell or two past midday, alone in Tobias’s room. They napped, and for a time they played, Tobias hiding from Sofya and popping into view, until the princess’s body shook with belly laughs.

  He kept the window open, replacing the stale air in his chamber with cool breezes and that silvering, misting rain.

  Eventually, a knock on his door interrupted their play. At his word, the door opened and the high priestess entered the chamber. She closed the door behind her.

  “You sail tonight,” she said, speaking quietly, eyes on the open window. “There’s a merchant ship – a Kant – that sails under the flag of Rencyr. She’s headed to Herjes, and her captain has agreed to grant you passage.”

  “Does he know who we are?”

  “He believes you to be a Northisle mercenary who refuses to serve Sheraigh’s new sovereign. You and your daughter are eager to escape the city.”

 

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