founding could be checked for wear, and fortunately it was only this that the Separatists attacked." His voice began to drift, more distant with each word. "They must have decided their vision of Separation supersedes even their feud with the Gift-Givers. They could have destroyed the whole Court from here."
An unpleasant thought crawled through Rel. "Or they see Taslin as so great a threat that they'd pass up anything to get her."
"Such loyalty." Fate's tone was amused. "But it is possible. In many ways I am no better equipped to take a guess at their logic than you."
Pevan, clearly recovering some of her equilibrium, folded her arms. "How do we get back to the Court, then?"
Fate blinked. "You trust me that easily?"
"You're Fate, aren’t you?" Pevan glanced at Rel, and he could tell that his expression did nothing to reassure her. They only had the stranger's word that he was Fate, after all. Perhaps Pevan saw something in him that Rel didn't. She finished, "If you say we're going to get back to the Court with your help, how would we have any choice in the matter?"
"Perhaps it would be easiest if I let you believe that." Fate turned his gaze on Rel. His eyes, Rel noticed, were yellow. "But I would rather not lie to you. I have no idea how much choice you have in the matter. Should you choose to resist..." He put a hand to his mouth briefly, a puzzled frown on his face, then went on. "I can predict the course of events if you accept my help to a high degree of accuracy. If you do not, if you deviate from the course I know about, then I know very little about what might happen."
"Like with Clearseeing?" It was Rel's turn to frown in consternation.
The man - or God, or whatever - smiled. "Precisely. The future has only one structure, after all. My perception works on a very different principle to Clearsight, but I see the same things you do."
"Then I could, in principle, check your claims." Rel swallowed as a burst of logic fatigue pulsed through his fore-brain.
"Not about your own future." For a moment, it seemed as if Fate would move closer, and Rel found himself tensing, but the stranger stayed put. "And unfortunately, my nature is such that I rather confound Clearsight. Even I avoid encounters with my own future wherever possible."
Pevan turned to face Rel, actually putting her shoulder towards Fate. Not the kind of thing she'd do unless she was more or less convinced. Quietly enough to exclude Fate from the conversation, though not so quiet that she sounded secretive, she said, "What do you think?"
Good question. Rel made another study of Fate. The cut of the man's garb resembled a Gift-Giver's robes, but this was not a Realm where appearance counted for much. There'd been so little threat in the conversation, though, not even the slightest attempt at coercion. Given the opportunity, even, he'd dissembled with every appearance of honesty. It was possible that he'd worked out that this would be the most effective way to win them over, but Rel recognised that for the pathway to paranoid madness that it was.
Rel said, "There's an old logical puzzle in here somewhere, but it's a First Realm logic puzzle. I think the upshot would be that we're going to end up going with him regardless. I certainly don't fancy getting into a fight in a place like this."
"We could wait and see if the Gift-Givers find us." Pevan was definitely only saying that because someone had to.
"Not a good bet, without more information about whether they're looking for us at all." Rel turned to Fate again. "We'll go with you." Pevan turned and stepped up to Rel's shoulder, backing him up with a nod.
Fate's gentle smile faded and he gestured to the archway. "I can't explain the process in terms that you could grasp. If I tried, your personal logics would resist too strongly. Just walk through the arch and keep walking straight. Try not to flinch or falter. It will be best if you go together, touching in some way."
A stiffness settled into Rel's shoulders, and he swallowed. Awkwardly, he offered his arm to Pevan. She shot him a look that was an odd combination of affection and glowering impatience - one of the few stern expressions she had that she hadn't learned from Dora - and took his hand. Her grip put the lie to her outward calm, and sent a shiver through him.
They shared a glance, and started forwards. Despite the gap between their heights, they fell into step easily, and somehow that meant they could drag each other through the archway without breaking stride.
As the stonework passed them by, some part of them stopped, left behind, frozen in time. The alien, monochrome landscape vanished, replaced by a space absolutely neutral in every respect, save a dark spot in the distance which might have been the mouth of a tunnel. Pevan started to turn to look back, but Rel squeezed her oh-so-delicate hand and she stopped.
The not-brown absence of stimulation around them flickered, for an instant black and silver again, and again there was the impression of selves left behind. This time, it was Pevan's sharp squeeze, pinching at Rel's fingers, that kept him moving.
Before long, the formless, blurry shapes of the walls squared off. The dark spot ahead became a tall rectangle that was at least a doorway of some sort. Pevan released his hand and picked up her step. He couldn't resist the urge to follow suit. He was just about to turn and ask what they should do next when Quilo appeared in the doorway and threw them a friendly wave, relief plain on his face.
***
About the author
R. J. Davnall has been telling stories all his life, and thus probably shouldn’t be trusted to write his own bio. He holds a PhD in philosophy and teaches at Liverpool University, while living what his mother insists on calling a 'Bohemian lifestyle'. When not writing, he can usually be found playing piano, guitar or World of Warcraft.
R. J. Davnall on Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/eatthepen
On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RJDavnall
Blog: https://itsthefuture.blogspot.com/
We Have to Go Deeper Page 8