They went in. Carmody stood behind her, staring at them in astonishment. Gratius closed the door, and they all embraced in front of a blazing fire.
“Where is Affron?” Larry asked finally.
Palta saw Carmody and Valleia exchange a glance, and her heart sank once again.
“Affron is not here,” Carmody said. “He is gone, and we don’t know where.”
Eleven
Valleia
Valleia heated up the remains of the rabbit stew while William helped Larry and the others take care of their horses. When they returned she served the stew and poured them cups of mead. They looked weary and cold as they settled themselves around the hearth. Why were they coming here in the middle of the night? And how had they found this remote place?
It had to do with Larry and Affron, of course. But beyond that she understood nothing.
“Please tell me about Affron,” Larry said, after he had taken a few bites of the stew.
“He has been gone a week or more,” Valleia said. “He left without a word. We looked—William, especially. But we found no trace of him.”
“When we arrived here, Affron would walk away from the cottage every morning and return as the sun set,” William explained. “He never told us where he was going; he never seemed especially cold or tired when he returned. And then one day he did not return.”
“Could he have walked to a port town and booked passage on a ship?” Palta asked. “Or bought a horse from someone and ridden off?”
Palta looked upset. She had matured since last summer, Valleia noticed; now she was clearly in the early stages of womanhood.
“He had no money that I’m aware of,” William replied. “There is a village not far off, but no one there claimed to have seen him.”
“Do you think he’s dead, then?” Palta asked, with tears in her eyes.
“I do not know, but I can’t see how he survived.”
“Affron is alive,” Larry said, with a certainty that seemed absurd under the circumstances, but nevertheless gave Valleia hope.
“How do you know?” she asked him.
Larry shrugged. “Did he speak of me?” he asked.
“He did not say much in all the time since we left Roma,” she replied. “You remember how he was. He would shut himself away from us for hours—days—at a time. But he seemed confident that you would find us, wherever we were. How, I don’t know. Why, I don’t know.”
Larry seemed to ponder this. He too looked older than Valleia remembered. When she first met him on Earth—was it less than a year ago?—he had looked like a normal schoolboy. Now he was taller, and there was a hint of maturity in his eyes. Or perhaps something more than maturity—something that Affron had spotted before any of them. “I saw the shed in Flendys,” Larry replied finally. “That’s where he spent his time.”
And how did Larry know that? William nodded. “He would sit in that shed, making those strange gestures with his hands, as if he were searching for something in the air in front of him. As he did in Roma. He never explained what he was doing.”
“Yes,” Larry said, as if this information did not surprise him.
“How did you find us here?” Valleia asked. She realized that she did not expect a satisfactory answer, any more than she had expected an explanation from Affron about his behavior.
She did not receive one. “I do not understand it,” Larry said. “I’m sorry—I would tell you if I could. Why did you leave Flendys?”
“Affron was worried that someone would track us there. He thought we were still in danger.”
“Do you know about what happened in Urbis?” Gratius asked.
“About the Gallians?” Valleia said. “Yes, that news reached us. But we know so little about it. You must tell us.”
And so they did—Gratius and Palta, anyway. Larry had little to say. It was difficult to believe—Larry and Palta had brought down the priests with a single gant and installed the Gallians in their place. All so that Larry could get back to Via and use it to return home. And yet, in the end, he decided to remain on Terra and find Affron. How did this make sense? What had forged the bond between the two of them?
Larry didn’t try to explain it.
And now Tirelius was gone—captured or dead; and all Valleia’s friends—viators and priests—were scattered. And the Gallians ruled the empire. “This does not bode well for Terra,” she said.
“It does not,” Gratius agreed. “But meanwhile, you should be safe here. Larry could find you, but no one else, I think. And I see that you are with child.”
Valleia was wondering when someone would point this out. It made sense that it would be Gratius; he had always been fond of her. Perhaps more than fond. She smiled and reached out to grasp Carmody’s hand. “We are very happy,” she replied.
“I wish both of you health and joy,” Gratius said, raising his cup in a toast. Larry and Palta murmured their agreement. “We are sorry to impose on you,” he went on.
“It is no imposition,” Valleia said. “We are happy for the company. We have lived a quiet life since we arrived here.”
“Stay as long as you like,” William added.
“You are very kind,” Gratius said.
Valleia couldn’t imagine that they would stay long. But where else would they go, what would they do, with Affron gone?
“Tomorrow would you help me search for him?” Larry asked William.
“You won’t find him around here,” William pointed out. “Not alive, at any rate.”
“I understand. Still.”
William nodded. “As you wish.”
With that, it seemed time to go to sleep. The others had traveled far, and Valleia was not used to being up so long after dark. She laid out what blankets they had on the floor by the hearth, and they settled down for the night. It was strange, but not unpleasant, to have guests in this small cottage. Her life here was utterly different from anything she had experienced, and it would change even more when her child was born. The same was true for William, who had been an army officer in the world where he had once lived. Sometimes she worried that she—or both of them—would end up bored, dissatisfied, resentful in their new lives. But that was unlikely, as long as they had each other.
She noticed Palta snuggling up to Larry, as she had most nights in Roma. Ah, it was nice to see that this had not changed, even though they had both changed so much. She hoped that Palta’s heart would not be broken. Valleia had not been close to her in Roma, but she had no reason to dislike the girl.
Tomorrow Larry would be convinced that Affron was truly gone, and then what? Would he keep searching? Would Palta have to follow him?
Valleia moved closer to William, who put his arm around her. She listened to the regular breathing of her sleeping guests, the patter of snow on the window panes. Oh, it was good to be alive. She wished that Palta and all of them could feel the way she felt right now.
Carmody
Searching for Affron was a waste of time, but Carmody was happy to ride out on a crisp winter morning with Palta and Larry. The chores could wait—and, after all, now there were more people to help. Gratius, in fact, was already helping; he had stayed behind at the cottage to reminisce with Valleia and chop firewood. And later he would make the daily trip to the village for food and supplies. He, apparently, had no interest in searching for his old friend.
Palta was confident on her horse; Larry, far less so. And he didn’t seem to be searching very hard. He didn’t study the ground for tracks; his gaze didn’t sweep the distance to see if Affron was rowing a boat on the lake or climbing a rocky crag.
It didn’t matter. They would not find Affron in any case.
The day when Affron failed to return Valleia had become increasingly agitated as the sun set and darkness deepened. “He cannot survive the night out there,” she said.
“Shall I look for him?” he asked her.
“No, no—what if you get lost? I cannot risk it.”
“Put a la
mp in the window,” he suggested. “I won’t go out of sight of the light.”
“Yes, all right. But be careful.”
The villagers had warned of wolves, although Carmody hadn’t seen any. He didn’t often wish he were back in his home world, but he would have preferred to have a musket now for protection, or a handgun from Larry’s world. At any rate, he took another lamp and went out into the night. He circled the cottage. He went down the path that led to the lake. He tramped through the meadow and the stand of trees that lay beyond it. He stopped and listened for moans or cries of distress.
And he saw nothing; he heard nothing. Affron was gone.
This did not surprise him, and it didn’t particularly upset him. He had always assumed that something like this would happen. Affron had already left them in spirit; it was only a matter of time before he left them altogether; and it was just like him to do so without an explanation, without a good-bye. Carmody returned to the cottage. “He will return if he wants to return,” he said. “He will be safe if he wants to be safe.”
Valleia nodded. “Still, we must try to find him.”
“Of course. I’ll go out again at daybreak.”
Daybreak came, and he left the cottage once again, and once again found no trace of Affron. No tracks in the snow, no scrap of clothing caught on a bramble. No frozen corpse lying on the ground, staring sightlessly at the sky.
Day after day he wasted time searching; day after day he found nothing. Affron was gone.
He was the only reason they were here, in this beautiful, desolate spot. He was the reason for everything they had done on Terra, really—and now he was gone.
Now there was just the two of them, with their unborn child. And that was fine with Carmody. What did Affron matter to him? He had no interest in these disagreements among the priests; he did not care whether they or the Gallians ruled the empire. The only reason he was here on Terra was Valleia. Without Affron, they could concentrate on building their life together.
And now Larry and the others had arrived. How had Larry discovered them? Carmody had met Larry before any of them, back on Carmody’s own world, a scared boy trying to talk his way out of a refugee camp in Boston. It seemed so long ago now, when he had been a soldier trying to use Larry and his friend Kevin to win a war. Much had happened; they had both changed. But it seemed that Larry had changed far more than he had.
And that was strange, because Carmody felt that he himself had changed completely. Until he met Valleia, he had been focused on finding out the secrets of Larry’s world—guns and motors and flying machines—and bringing them back to his own, so that his nation could defeat its enemies. But when he met Valleia, such concerns slipped away. What did they matter, next to her smile, her touch? He had no desire to be anywhere but where Valleia was.
“Stop!”
Larry had raised his hand and pulled up for no reason that Carmody could see. They were at the base of a hill, a few hundred feet high. Carmody tried to remember if he had searched it. Probably not; he hadn’t bothered climbing all the numberless hills that dotted this landscape. Why would Affron climb to the top of a hill? Larry got off his horse and tied it to a scrub pine.
“What is it, Larry?” Palta asked.
“Just wait here,” he replied. “I’ll be back.”
And with that he started to scramble up the hill.
“Is anything up there?” Palta asked Carmody.
Carmody shook his head. “Trees and rocks. Grouse, rabbits, squirrels.”
Palta looked worried. “Should we follow him?”
“Why? He’s not in any danger. He will come back down eventually. And then we will keep looking.”
“You think this is a waste of time.”
“Of course it is.”
They watched Larry make his way up the hill. He was awkward; he stumbled over a rock, fell, and slid back down a few feet, then got up with difficulty. He wasn’t used to climbing. Finally he made it to the top and disappeared from view.
Palta and Carmody waited. “I do not understand Larry,” she said finally.
“Nor do I,” Carmody replied.
“What do you think he’s doing up there?”
“I have no idea.” He paused, and then asked: “Did he tell you how he found us?”
“Not very clearly. He had a sense, a feeling…He can’t explain it—or won’t.” After another pause, Palta asked, “Do you like it here?”
“It is very beautiful—far nicer than Roma. But if we stay, Valleia and I will have to figure out how to make a living in this place. I’m not a farmer, though I suppose I can learn. It is difficult living in a world that is not your own. As you know.”
Palta did not respond. She seemed to be a smart, accomplished girl. But she, too, was an outsider here. What did she want to do with her life?
“You’re welcome to stay, you know,” he went on. “All of you, actually. Away from the struggle and the strife.”
He stole a glance at her. She sat motionless on her horse, but it was not hard to spot the concern on her face. Was she even listening to him?
“There he is!” she exclaimed.
He looked up and saw Larry at the top of the hill. He seemed to be gazing off into the distance. At what? There was little to be seen—the lake, the village, small cottages like theirs, flocks of sheep, hills and meadows and snow. Finally he started back down the hill.
“Did you discover anything?” Carmody asked when he reached the bottom.
“Nothing,” Larry replied, untying his horse. But he didn’t seem disappointed.
“Shall we continue?”
“I don’t think so. We can return to the cottage, if you like.”
“As you wish,” Carmody said. He waited for Larry to mount his horse, and then they started off in silence.
Back at the cottage, Gratius and Valleia were preparing dinner. In addition to the food, Gratius had bought extra blankets in the village. He apparently had plenty of money, which was helpful, because Valleia and Carmody had to be careful with what little they had left. Carmody told them about their lack of success.
“So, you have searched; what will you do now?” Valleia asked Larry.
Everyone looked at him. Larry was silent for a long time. And then he said, “Can we stay here for a while?”
And Carmody thought he saw a hint of the scared boy he had met outside that refugee camp in Boston. Larry had expected to find Affron here. But Affron had disappeared. And now he was baffled, lost.
But the fundamental question remained: why this obsession with Affron? Why hadn’t he taken the opportunity to return home when he’d had it, back in Urbis? He knew how much Larry had wanted to go home, on Carmody’s world and again here on Terra. Carmody had felt the same regret and longing when he’d been trapped in Larry’s world. So many friends and relatives, so many customs and habits and ways of thinking, lost forever. Carmody had found something—someone—better, someone who made up for all he had lost. But Larry—what did he have? Palta, of course. She clearly cared for Larry. What did Affron offer him?
“You can stay,” Valleia said to Larry, repeating what Carmody had said to Palta. “You can all stay. For a while, or for longer. The searching, the yearning…It can all stop. Now. Here.”
No one said anything. And finally Larry nodded. “You are most kind,” he murmured.
Palta put her hand on Larry’s. Gratius smiled. Carmody himself felt a sense of relief.
The mood was cheerful as they ate the meal. Gratius had purchased jugs of ale that all but Valleia consumed gratefully. There was little talk of the future, but that was all right. It was good to have friends and shared memories and the warmth of a fire.
Later, Carmody went to the outhouse, and when he returned Valleia was standing outside the cottage door, her cape wrapped around her shoulders. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. “I was getting used to our privacy,” she said.
“I know.” He put his arm around her, and they stood in silence. The n
ight was clear, and the sky glistened with stars.
“Larry will not stay,” Valleia said at last.
“How do you know?”
“It’s just a feeling. Whatever he is searching for, he won’t find it here. So he will leave.”
“Perhaps Palta will stay,” he replied. “She could help with the childbirth.”
“That would be good. But she loves Larry, and she will not want to leave him.”
This seemed likely. But he couldn’t worry about them. He touched Valleia’s belly lightly. Everything was quiet inside it at the moment. But it was good to know that the baby was there, growing every day, getting ready to join them. “Let them stay or leave,” he said. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”
Valleia didn’t bother to reply; the answer was obvious. Instead she laid her head against his chest, and together they looked up at the stars in silence.
Twelve
Larry
Larry had read something about memories once—in science class, maybe, or somewhere on the web. Memories are stored in the synapses of your brain; scientists aren’t exactly sure how. But your body is always changing, developing, aging. Your synapses today are not the same as your synapses last year. And you think you remember things, but really you don’t, at least not very well, certainly not perfectly—maybe your memories today just remember old memories, and so they get less and less accurate over time, like in that game where a conversation is repeated from person to person, and eventually the last person ends up hearing something that is nothing at all like the original.
Nowadays he felt his memories of his life in Glanbury slipping away, as his synapses changed here on Terra. He had an image in his mind of what his father looked like, but was it real? What about the sound of his brother Matthew’s voice, the excitement of Christmas morning, how it felt to ride in a car…?
It hadn’t been that long.
It had been forever.
He lay on the floor of this isolated cottage under a woolen blanket. The fire in front of him burned low. Palta lay asleep next to him. He was in northern Scotia, which was a part of what people in the empire called Barbarica, which was in a world called Terra, although the Scotians themselves probably had a different name for it.
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