“If there is one, that is infinitely preferable.” Gwen gave her a hug. She decided not to press the point about her state of disarray, and walked with her to the window so she could grant the guests permission.
It was only later, looking for something clean to change into, that Kira realized Gwen had not really answered her question. She sighed. Taking her gun to the meeting would probably be inappropriate, but she felt more confident with some kind of weapon, so she strapped her Bowie knife to her leather belt.
Outside her door was a man, probably in his twenties, who seemed thunderstruck by the sight of her. “Can I help you?” she asked.
He swallowed. “Um, ah, the bathroom. Sorry. I was looking for a bathroom. We came by camel. It was a thirteen-hour journey, and I’ve never been good at peeing when – oh God, did I just say that?”
She was surprised to find herself laughing, her tension eased. “There’s one right in there. This here’s a powerful confusing place, I’ll grant it.”
“Jared, I’m thanks, I mean…”
She laughed again. “My name’s Kira. See you downstairs in a bit.”
He rushed in the direction she had indicated, and she headed for the wide mahogany stairs. The hall was a bright one, full of windows revealing the surrounding fields of golden grain. It was hard not to feel her spirits lightening despite the many reasons why they should not.
Another young man, this one lighter-skinned with a mighty fine black hat and suit, white gloves, and an odd piece of round glass over one eye, blocked her path. “Pardon me for my rudeness, but would you be Kira Abish Greer, the current Lady of Summer?”
Kira put her hands on her hips. “Yup. You gonna tell me who you are, or you gonna get out of my way?”
He shook his head. “Sometimes I regret the darker side of my career.” He pulled a small revolver on her. “Hands up, Miss. If I see the walls shifting or any other such rum business, I will shoot you in a painful but non-vital spot.”
“You want me alive, then. Else you would’ve killed me before saying a word.”
“The stipulation was a delicate one. I have to either persuade you, if you’ll see reason, or subdue you if you won’t. It is another who will kill you so he may gain your power.”
“Who is your employer?” Kira had learned in Civics class that licensed assassins must always reveal who hired them if asked by the target.
“The Lady Gwen of Autumn is very apologetic about the business. You must understand why, though. Even though you claim to be willing, she’s concerned about your ability to actually give yourself up.”
“I…” Kira knew that this was probably the best way. She’d wanted another day to sort things out. She knew it would have turned into another day, another, and another. If Gwen hired this assassin, then she probably had a man that would make an excellent ruler in mind to do the actual deed. She had to think about the good of the dimensions, after all. She shouldn’t be selfish just because she didn’t deserve any of this. She shouldn’t be selfish just because she had done a good thing and had been punished for it. She shouldn’t be selfish just because she was so young and had tasted so little of life. Her shoulders shook and her feet felt rooted to the ground.
“No. No. I’m sorry. I don’t want to go.”
****
Twig had traveled to Summer’s castle cradled in Jared’s arms after the others’ initial expressions of surprise and interest. She paused in her amazed exploration of a grand ballroom with a gilded and filigreed representation of a tropical rainforest all along the walls and ceilings. She had been trying to summon the courage to finally meet her maker, with the sobering feeling that she had absolutely no idea what to do with herself after accomplishing this goal. Now Twig felt the distinct sense that Kira was in trouble.
She started running as fast as her little legs could carry her.
****
When Jared saw the situation between Kira and Djones, his personal perception of time slowed to a crawl. He heard himself yell, “Run, Kira! I can buy you seven minutes!”
He wasn’t sure why he was doing this, besides of course his horror of seeing anyone murdered before his eyes. Part of it was his distress at seeing Djones, who he was starting to like, turn out to be a hired killer. Though Jared reflected he should have seen it coming, what with Djones’ cavalier attitude towards body disposal. Nobody should be that cheerfully competent at such a thing.
Kira knocked Djones aside and scurried down the stairs so fast she came dangerously close to tripping. Jared hoped like hell Djones had never heard the ballad Lady Isobel and the Elf Knight. Jared learned one version of the song while working at a Renaissance Faire during college. A ‘minstrel’ sang it a dozen times each day, practically right next to Jared’s meat pie stand. It made Jared hope real Renaissance minstrels knew more than five ballads, for their sake.
Jared was not a good singer. He had trouble staying in key and breathed at awkward times, creating unnatural pauses. To stop Djones, Jared shoved his insecurities aside. With perhaps the creakiest, most awkward sense of melody the song had ever been sung, Jared sang:
It’s of a wicked of the North
Who came a courting of she
He promised he’d take her unto the North land
And then his bride she would be
Djones stood completely still, his face a twisted mask of rage and frustration. Firing his weapon or running after his target must violate the terms of the curse placed upon him, because he did neither. Jared thought of the contrast between the assassin’s usual breezy matter and how desperate he’d been when Rain hadn’t finished her song. He wondered how much pain Djones was in for if Jared stopped.
Jared was close to hyperventilating, but he sang as if it were his own life that depended on it, rather than that of the girl he had just met. He was starting to believe he had developed a massive crush at a very inconvenient time, especially given that he still wasn’t over William.
Trust not new loves, trust not your life
Unless you are bold as she
And if it turns out far more ill
Come not a-crying to me
Given the circumstances, Jared figured it was probably best to sing the full chorus after each verse. Djones looked as though he wanted to make Jared pay dearly afterwards.
“Go fetch me some of your father’s gold
And some of your mother’s fee
And two of the finest horses they own
For they have full thirty and three.
So she fetched some of her father’s gold
And some of her mother’s fee
And two of the finest horses they owned
To ride away bright and early
They rode all day, they rode all night
They rode till they came to the sea.”
Even Jared was getting sick of the ‘trust not new loves’ chorus, but he had to pad this out. He had to muddle and improvise a few of the middle verses, involving the man turning out to be a serial killer and making various threats. He remembered the full lyrics of the ending, though, because it was his favorite part. This verse made it different from any other old folk ballads he ever heard.
‘Tis six lovely maidens I have ravished and drowned
And you the seventh shall be.
But he stood too close to the beckoning waves
And such courage in extremity
Did fill her heart, so quick and bold
She pushed him into the sea
‘Oh help!’ he cried from the foamy brine
’I’ll give you my lands should you free
Me from these waters I cannot swim
And you your servant I’ll be.’
Lie there, lie there, you false young man
Lie there instead of me
‘Tis six foolish maidens you have drowned in there
Go keep them good company.”
“Are you quite finished?” Djones asked, his voice cold, advancing towards Jared like a well-tailored panther.<
br />
“Djones, I’m not trying to endanger your livelihood or anything. I couldn’t stand there and let you take her off to be killed, though.”
“Indeed. The rules of my certification as a legal assassin forbid me from causing permanent harm to anyone except my specific assignment. However.” Djones backed Jared against a wall, his revolver nearly poking Jared’s stomach. “We could spend an instructive few hours learning exactly what kinds of harm the human body can heal from in a matter of, say, months.”
At this point Twig, who had finally made it to the top, tripped Djones and shoved him down the stairs.
Djones screamed and bounced all the way down, falling silent when he came to a stop.
“Nice timing. Thanks.” Jared made his own way down so he could check to make sure Djones wasn’t too badly hurt.
Twig shrugged and called after him, “Your song inspired me.”
****
A steamship, bearing the leaf flag of Autumn and carrying over a hundred passengers, drove straight through another new portal and smashed into the face of a cliff in the Himalayas. The only reason nobody died was that a sorceress who happened to be onboard teleported everyone to safety. She couldn’t save the ship itself.
****
“Lady Gwen?”
“Yes, William?”
“I previously agreed to your request that I take upon myself the mantle of Summer. I still recognize the immense honor that offer truly is. At this point I must respectfully decline.”
“Is this just because we were found out? Kira realizes what should be done. She told me so. She was just frightened at the time, which is perfectly natural.”
“No. I have come to the conclusion that I do not wish for the responsibility. I’m happiest as an advisor. I appreciate your finding Djones a medic. Please make sure he gets a ticket home.”
William would never tell Gwen the other reason. It was the way he saw Jared and Kira looking at each other over this evening’s awkward feast. He didn’t become Vincent of Winter’s right-hand man without learning to read body language. He knew any attempt at a relationship between those two would almost certainly end badly. He still couldn’t bear to be the one to extinguish the tiny spark.
Gwen stared into space for a while, stippling her fingers along the emerald tapestry lining the table. Then she nodded. “I understand. I think it’s time to give Kira the proclamation of war.”
After the meeting, William found the small guest room where Djones was staying the night, before taking the morning train back to Centralia.
“It’s me, Rupert,” he said, after two knocks.
“The door’s unlocked, Will.”
It was an anonymous, budget-hotel sort of room. It had off-white walls, a tan carpet, and a dun bed next to a beige table with a light brown lamp and matching chair. William saw there was an en suite bathroom, but he couldn’t see inside it.
The important thing was Djones, pondering a crossword puzzle, all snuggly in bed with the covers up to his waist. He had a bandage around his head and a scattering of faint scars and large bruises visible on his naked torso.
“I apologize for my state of disarray, but my binder is excruciating with my current injuries. Only one of my shirts fits me without it. The shirt in question is for traveling tomorrow. Thank all things bright and beautiful for baggy jackets, what?”
“I’m glad you survived. Threatening Jared was uncalled for, don’t you think? He wasn’t your target. All he really did was inconvenience you. It was that strange living doll thing that hurt you.”
Djones nibbled at his pen. “I lost my temper. You must concede I’ve had a most trying day. It started out with me feeling worse in my skin than usual. Then there was that absurdly arduous camel ride. Then I realized I forgot to shave and arrived at the castle all scruffy, Will. My first castle. Scruffy. ”
“I thought you were happy that you can grow a beard now.”
“I’m happy I can, but I don’t want to.”
William rolled his eyes. “This is so much more important than you being an asshole to Jared, clearly.”
“I would have punched him only a few times before calming down.”
“I know. He didn’t know. Don’t.”
After a moment of eye contact, dark pink to light brown, Djones nodded. They’d been dear friends once. They were their boarding school’s pair of freaks, joined in solidarity. The main problem was that William couldn’t stomach Djones’ career. “I apologize.”
“Congratulations on still being paid, at least. Mostly for what you did in Drought, but I do give points for effort. I originally requested that she choose you for the job because if I ever did have to kill someone, I would want you metaphorically holding my hand through it. I can’t help but be glad it’s not going to happen that way. Maybe it’s cowardice.”
Djones folded up his crossword puzzle and tossed it aside. “Lacking my special, effortlessly debonair brand of heartlessness isn’t cowardice. I remember how you looked at me when I told you about passing my job interview.”
“Just because I excused myself two sentences into your vivid description in doesn’t mean I hate you.”
“No, it means you needed to vomit. It means we see each other only once every year or two, except for those nice letters you send on my birthday. Which I do appreciate. I never know what to write back. Hence the paper snowflakes.”
“I appreciate the snowflakes. Hence the letters.” William smiled sadly and handed Djones an envelope full of documents. “Keeping things discreet was tricky, but with Gwen’s name to smooth things along I got it done. You’re now legally male in all realms. Not just your home one. I slipped in the business card of a surgeon I found, though I don’t know the state of your finances.”
Djones cradled the envelope against his breasts. “Thank you. You’d have ruled well.”
“Thank you. Um…”
“Yes, old sport?”
William cleared his throat. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but I asked the Lady Autumn if it would have counted. If you had killed Kira, I mean. If you’d gotten greedy and broken your contract.”
“It’s a moot point, though, isn’t it?”
“No, it isn’t. I know you. She said it didn’t matter to the plan, because you’d be too scared to try, because if you tried and it didn’t...But it would have worked. The magic doesn’t care about trivialities. She checked.”
Djones was silent. William couldn’t think of anything else to add, so he left.
Fifteen
The Autumn of Our Hopes
Why?
Why now? Why me?
As well ask why breathe? Why love? Why greet the morning?
Sun brightness, warmth on body, bustling society, the texture and crunch of sustenance. These are the joys of being.
Yet always the pull toward that other. In youth I followed as siblings led, sometimes fleeing, sometimes reaching toward that other.
I watched in fright, in awe, in envy as the great ones crossed over. They left only their husks behind, rustling in the afterbreeze.
I saw others taken before their time, escorted away by servants without ever tasting that other. The Change Master is capricious, coming sometimes straight on, swerving sometimes suddenly to left, to right. A spice of uncertainty is thus added to the ritual. Thrice now have I danced the dance. Once I reaped the whirlwind. Now I walk with a limp. I have accepted the homage due one touched by the Master. That lingering touch only hungers me for the fullness of that other.
When the connection is not clear, when the pull is not present, I hesitate, then continue along the parallel, the safe unthreatening limited parallel of this state. Not for now the blessed perpendicular. Today, I feel a gleam. A call, a tug. There awaits that other. Today is my day. The Change Master approaches. Now for the dance of death.
Of death, said I? Why not of life? To wake from this pleasant but inchoate dream state, to move onward, to move beyond. To live. I run, stretching shoulders to limber my
pace, to move my wounded limb along. The Master draws near, nearer.
Now is my moment. Now the connection is made. Now comes the pull toward that other. As the Master enters my peripheral vision, I execute, again, that perpendicular that measures, that states our highest being. Between? Beyond? I control the urge to fly this encounter, to flee from the new knowing.
The other side. That’s why.
“Okay,” Amber declared, “Jared wins. That is the most elaborate version of ‘Why did the chicken cross the road?’ I have ever heard.”
Jared mimed tipping a hat. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to use it. Thank you for giving me one.”
After breakfast Gwen asked to speak to Kira and Lynne privately. Jared, Amber, Rain, William, and Twig chose to wait by an indoor pond full of golden carp, chatting. The conversation became so gloomy and bogged-down that Amber suggested a riddle contest to take their minds off the impending potential apocalypse. William and Twig had never heard any of the classics the other three knew, but Jared had wanted to do better than that.
“I’ve got a different one,” Rain said, toying with her black halter top. “Why isn’t William bothered about Jared and Kira making funny faces at each other?”
Before Jared could object, William patted his hand. “The same reason, Rain, that you’re not bothered when anyone you’ve slept with while tipsy has non-drunken interest in someone else. Especially if you’re not in the right position for any kind of lasting relationship.”
“Thanks,” Jared mumbled.
William gracefully inclined his head and took another sip of his drink.
“What’s this about me and Jared?” Kira asked, appearing at the arched marble doorway.
“Nothing,” everyone but Rain chorused.
Kira raised an eyebrow but then beckoned Jared. “I need to have a chat with you. Alone.”
“Ooooo,” quoth Rain.
“Dear God, Rain; are you twelve?” Twig asked.
Jared hurried after Kira so as not to hear the rest of the exchange. He noticed how quiet and withdrawn she was, as if she’d pulled her psyche inward to somewhere safe and unrevealed. They ended up in a room with an empty bar, hollow kegs meant for beer, and a variety of tall swivel stools.
Seasons Turning (Timely Realms Book 1) Page 15