“I think we have to go back to the beginning,” said Umbo. “I think we have to talk to Ram Odin.”
“We can’t,” said Rigg. “We don’t dare. If we change his choice, we undo all of human history on Garden.”
“Not undo, re do,” said Olivenko.
“And maybe not,” said Umbo. “There were nineteen Ram Odins, at least for a few minutes. What if we could talk to one of the ones who died?”
“What could we learn from that?” asked Olivenko, a little scornfully. “Those aren’t the Ram Odins that made all the decisions that shaped this world.”
“First,” said Rigg, “Ram Odin only made the decisions that he made, based on the data the ships and the expendables gave him. But he also knew things about how the expendables worked that we don’t know.”
“The mice are leaving,” said Param.
It was true. They were rushing from the flyer, down the ramp and simply dropping off its sides. It took a surprisingly long time. They had apparently been swarming everywhere in the vehicle.
“Alone at last,” said Olivenko, when the last mouse went down the ramp.
“There are still five on Loaf,” said Rigg. “And three hiding in the upholstery.”
Those all came out of hiding and headed out the door.
“They don’t have to go,” said Rigg. “We have nothing to hide.”
But the mice went anyway.
Umbo got up and went to the doorway and looked out. They were on the brow of a hill, surrounded mostly by woodland. He could see several housetrees of the Odinfolders. Rigg came and stood beside him. “They’re at home,” said Rigg.
“But not coming out to see what we’re doing,” said Umbo.
“They see the Odinfold flyer,” said Rigg, “and all they can see of us is a couple of people standing in the doorway. As far as they know, we’re transporting mice for some kind of mousemoot.”
Umbo turned back to face the others. “Should we do it?” he asked.
“Transport the mice with us into the past?” asked Loaf. “We gave our word.”
“We don’t even know if we can do it,” said Umbo.
“Of course we can,” said Rigg. “If we can take Loaf with us, we can take anybody.”
Loaf smiled wanly.
“When should we travel to?” asked Umbo. “How far into the past are we going to take them?”
“As soon after we got control of the Wall as possible, I suppose,” said Rigg.
Umbo noticed the way he said “we.” As if anybody but him had any power over it. “I don’t carry a perfect calendar in my head,” said Umbo. “Why not just go through now, a year or so before the Visitors arrive?”
“Because the mice want more than a few of their generations to get established,” said Loaf. “They want to take ten thousand mice through the Wall, so they’ll have millions in place before the Visitors come.”
“That’s what the mice want,” said Umbo.
“We gave our word,” said Param.
“Based on information they gave us,” said Umbo. “And what the expendables and the ship told us.”
“Umbo has a point,” said Rigg. “Not the point he thinks he’s making—we’re going to keep our word, or at least I am. But we don’t know if we can take ten thousand mice into the past. Or even fifty. And how will we pinpoint when to arrive?”
“Just . . . hook on to some path, like you always do,” said Umbo.
“What path?” asked Rigg. “How do we know which of the paths that come near the Wall are from that time, or even close to it?”
“Take the flyer back with us,” said Olivenko, “and when we get there, ask it if we hit the right time.”
“No,” said Umbo. “If we arrive at a time before Rigg got control of the ships, then the flyer doesn’t have to do anything we say.”
“But it’s the flyer from now, from the future of that time,” said Olivenko.
“Machines aren’t people,” said Umbo. “It will sync up with the starship computers of that time and do what they tell it to do—and they won’t be obeying Rigg. They won’t even know who Rigg is.”
“We’re so powerful,” said Param. “But now we want to be all-knowing, too.”
“Well, it would be nice,” said Rigg.
“I think we need to fly back to where we came through the Wall from Vadeshfold,” said Umbo, “and go back to that time, where Rigg can see our own paths coming through the Wall.”
“But we won’t have the mice there,” said Loaf.
“They assembled here,” said Umbo. “Let them assemble there.”
“And then how long will it take them to travel here to the Larfold Wall?” asked Loaf. “They have little tiny legs.”
“I stay here,” said Umbo. “Rigg flies back there. Rigg hooks onto our paths. I push Rigg back, complete with the flyer. Rigg flies back here in that time, and then when he gets here, I pull him back to this time.”
“So much rigmarole,” said Olivenko.
“It’s the only way Rigg can go back and then get back to this time exactly,” said Umbo. “I’m still needed for that—the ability to stay in the present and send somebody else into the past. When Rigg comes back to the present, his own path will be here, at the Wall, and then we can take the mice back. Even if we can only take twenty or fifty or a hundred at a time, I can send Rigg back with the mice again and again, bring Rigg back to the present, and send him again.”
“I wish I could sense paths through the curvature of the planet,” said Rigg. “I can see them through hills, but they get faint and then invisible as more and more planetary mass gets between me and them.”
Param got up from her chair and walked to the door. She put her hands on Umbo’s shoulders. “What are you planning, Umbo?” she asked.
“I’m planning to do whatever we decide to do,” said Umbo, puzzled by the question.
“If you push Rigg into the past,” she said, “and then leave him there, he can’t get back to the present. He can’t see paths in the future. He can’t shift forward.”
“But I won’t leave him there,” said Umbo, blushing as he realized what treachery she was accusing him of.
“I’m sorry,” said Param, “but I’m trying to figure out what great wellspring of loyalty you’re drawing from here. Aren’t you the one who got rid of Rigg before, when we were still on our way to Odinfold?”
This was too much to bear, coming from her. “You’re the one who refused to go on hiking! I was trying to help you.”
“You were trying to get out from under Rigg’s thumb,” said Param. “Don’t blame it on me. Stranding Rigg in the past would make you the only time-shifter left here in the present.”
“But I won’t do that,” said Umbo.
“And we know that because . . .”
“Because I say so,” said Umbo.
“And we’re supposed to take the word of a peasant boy?” asked Param scornfully.
“The word of peasant boys is worth a lot more than the word of the royal family, as far as I’ve been able to see!” shouted Umbo.
In answer, Param gave him a shove out the door.
Umbo stumbled backward, lost his footing on the ramp, and fell off to the side into the grass. Above him, he could hear Param say to Rigg, “Now let’s take the flyer and go.”
“I see,” said Rigg.
“See what?” asked Param.
“That you’re our mother’s true daughter,” said Rigg.
Umbo was still getting to his feet when he heard a scuffle above him. He looked up to see Param stumbling down the ramp, tripping, falling.
Umbo might have caught her, or broken her fall a little. Instead he ducked under the ramp. She fell unimpeded into the grass, just as he had. Only she wasn’t used to falling. She didn’t have the catlike reflexes that Umbo had developed growing up in Fall Ford, playing in the woods, by the river, on the rocky cliffs, climbing every tree, every boulder, with other boys and many a girl scuffling with him. She fell like a lump an
d then cried out in pain; she curled up, holding her elbow.
Umbo had seen the elbow bend way too far in the wrong direction. And now it hung limply. Torn ligaments, broken bones—it had to be one or the other, or both. It wasn’t a hinge joint anymore. It was more like loose skin between two bones.
“That was ugly,” said Umbo.
Param screamed in agony and then . . . disappeared.
“Param,” cried Rigg, rushing down the ramp. “I didn’t mean to . . .”
Loaf and Olivenko followed him out of the flyer and down the ramp. “Rigg, you stupid little—” Loaf began.
“I know!” shouted Rigg. “But she had no right to treat Umbo that way! Who does she think she is?”
“She thinks she’s the Queen-in-the-Tent of the Sessamids!” said Olivenko. “And oh, surprise: As soon as your mother dies, she is.”
“She’s not queen of anything, here,” said Rigg.
“She’s my queen wherever she is,” said Olivenko.
“Well isn’t that sweet,” said Loaf. “As big a collection of idiots as I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“We have to get her back,” said Rigg.
“Any bright ideas about how to do that?” asked Loaf.
“I can write her a note. I used to write her notes on a slate back in Flacommo’s house. Before we actually met.”
“She can’t have gotten far,” said Olivenko. “It’s not as if she was in any shape to move.”
“If she isn’t moving,” said Rigg, “she wouldn’t disappear. Time-slicing only makes her invisible if she’s moving.”
“How can she move with that elbow?” asked Umbo.
“She doesn’t walk on her elbows,” said Rigg.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot,” said Umbo. “I’m the one who came up with a plan to get us and ten thousand mice through the Wall at exactly the right time.”
“Well, now we’re not doing anything,” said Olivenko.
“Listen to yourselves,” said Loaf. “Is there anyone here with a brain? This didn’t have to happen.”
“But it did!” shouted Umbo. “And it’s not my fault!”
“Nobody thinks it’s your fault,” said Loaf. “And it was Param whose ignorant arrogance caused this particular problem, that plus Rigg’s misguided loyalty to you. So here’s what you’re going to do. Rigg and Umbo, you’re both going to go to the top of this ramp and make a magical appearance a few minutes back in time, just before stupid Rigg pushed his stupid sister down the stupid ramp so she could shatter her stupid elbow.”
“But then all this will be undone,” said Umbo.
“Yes,” said Loaf, incredulous. “That’s what we need to accomplish—undoing all this wonderful nightmare!”
“But then I’ll never know that Rigg is still my friend!” said Umbo. And to his surprise, he had tears on his cheeks. He was crying. Why was he crying?
“Silbom’s left . . .” Loaf began. “Silbom’s left and right and middle everything. Go up there and tell yourselves what happened but stop this stupidity from going so far. Do you understand me?”
“You’re not my father, you know,” said Umbo.
“I’m as close to a father as you’ll ever get,” said Loaf, “and don’t you forget it.”
“I will forget it,” said Umbo. “That’s what you’re sending us up the ramp to do.”
“Yes, I am. So do it. Erase this lovely moment of agony for Param and stupidity for you and Rigg and utter frustration for the only grownups in our little company.”
“Are you counting me as a grownup?” asked Olivenko. “How sweet.”
“Go,” said Loaf.
Umbo and Rigg walked up the ramp together.
Umbo hit the ground after his fall from the ramp. He could hear Param saying, “Now let’s take the flyer and go.”
“I see,” said Rigg.
“See what?” asked Param.
But instead of Rigg answering her, Umbo heard his own voice coming from above him. “Don’t do it, Rigg,” he said.
“Don’t do what?” asked Rigg.
“Don’t push her, you fool,” said Rigg.
Rigg?
Umbo got to his feet. He could see himself and Rigg standing at the top of the ramp, talking to Rigg and Param.
Something bad must have happened, and he and Rigg had come back together to prevent it.
“I won’t,” said Rigg-of-the-present. “I never would.”
“You did,” said Rigg-of-the-past.
Umbo-of-the-past said, “But I’m glad you’re still my friend.” Then he turned a little and shouted into the air. “And Loaf is not my father!”
Then the apparitions of Umbo and Rigg disappeared.
Rigg and Param stood there in the doorway of the flyer. Param glared at Rigg. “You were going to push me down the ramp?”
“Don’t ever talk to my friend that way again,” said Rigg to Param. “I trust him a lot more than I trust you.” Rigg walked down the ramp. “Are you all right?” he asked Umbo.
“I am now,” said Umbo. “Worth the fall.”
“I thought you were my brother!” said Param. And then she disappeared.
Loaf and Olivenko appeared in the doorway of the flyer. “I don’t know what you two came back to prevent,” said Olivenko, “but it must have been a catastrophe, if this is better.”
“It’s not my fault if Param decides to disappear,” said Rigg.
“She’s your sister,” said Olivenko. “And someday she’ll be Queen-in-the-Tent.”
“And Umbo is a powerful time-shifter,” said Rigg. “Maybe she should remember that when she starts talking about peasant boys. Where I grew up, peasant boys were way above my station!”
“Seems to me none of you has grown up,” said Loaf.
Umbo had a pretty good idea of why his apparition had declared that Loaf was not his father. “Are we going to do what I suggested?” asked Umbo. “You fly back there and hook onto the past, and then fly here, and then I bring you and the flyer back?”
“Can you hold on to me that far?” asked Rigg.
“I don’t know.”
“So how will I know if you can bring me back to the present?”
Loaf held up his hand. There was a mouse on his shoulder, talking to him. “Our friend suggests you use the orbital phone to talk to each other when Rigg is at the other place.”
Umbo had no idea what Loaf was talking about. The term “orbital phone” meant nothing to him. That is, he understood both of the words, but had no idea what physical object they might be referring to, or how it would work.
“The knife,” said Loaf.
“Knife?” asked Umbo.
“It’s an orbital phone,” said Loaf.
“You knew this?” asked Umbo.
“I had no idea,” said Loaf.
“What’s an orbital phone?”
“I have no idea,” said Loaf.
Umbo pulled the knife from its sheath at his belt. “I thought this was a duplicate set of ships’ logs.”
“The jewels are a duplicate set,” said Loaf, who was apparently getting an explanation from the mouse. “But the hilt under it is a communicator. Wherever you are, it connects to the starship of that wallfold by transmitting a signal to the orbiter, which relays it to the starship, and back and forth like that.”
“This does that?” asked Umbo, looking at the knife. “It still looks like a knife.”
“My friend says that it’s in constant communication with the orbiter,” said Loaf. “The whole time you’ve had it, it’s been transmitting everything we said and did to the starship computers.”
Umbo flung it away from him. “It’s been spying on us.”
“It’s been keeping you connected to the rest of the world,” said Olivenko.
“Is there anything else it does?” asked Rigg, picking up the knife.
“Cuts meat,” said Loaf.
“Was that your joke, or the mouse’s?” asked Umbo.
“Mine,” said Lo
af. “The mouse says the orbital phone was all they could fit into the hilt.”
“It must be a primitive design,” said Umbo acidly.
“Yes,” said Loaf. “It was made and sent back to you more than a hundred years ago.”
“But we only got it two years—” and then Umbo interrupted himself and fell silent. They got the knife two years ago, but with time-sending, that had nothing to do with when it was sent. Umbo blushed.
“We’re all still trying to figure it all out,” said Rigg. “So the knife is a communicator. No wonder the expendables in every wallfold knew all about what we were doing.”
“Well, they knew all about me and Loaf,” said Umbo. “During those months I had the knife and you were in Aressa Sessamo.” Then Umbo blushed again, thinking of the prank he had played, stealing one of the jewels from the bag before Loaf hid it near the Tower of O. What a child he had been. No wonder Loaf got so impatient with him.
Does the fact that I feel embarrassed about it now mean that I’m growing up? Umbo decided not to ask the question aloud. He had a feeling he knew what Loaf’s answer would be.
They waited an hour or so as Rigg tracked Param’s path down the ramp. As soon as she was clear of the flyer, Rigg took off, heading for their original entry point into Odinfold. Umbo stayed there on the knoll, holding the knife, talking to Rigg continuously. He knew that when he sent Rigg back in time, he kept hold of him, not with his eyes, but with some other sense, a deep knowledge of where and when Rigg was located. They had found each other in Aressa Sessamo without being able to see each other, and Umbo had pushed Rigg back and forth in time. But the distance now would be far greater, and there was that problem of line-of-sight. If Rigg couldn’t track paths through the curvature of Garden, could Umbo hold on to Rigg despite the thickness of rock and earth between them?
It took hours to complete the voyage, but Rigg and Umbo were still talking and, more to the point, Umbo could still feel whatever part of Rigg he felt when he had a grip on his timeflow.
“Make sure you take the flyer with you,” said Umbo.
“I definitely don’t want to walk back, if that’s what you’re thinking,” said Rigg. “By the way, I have a mouse on my shoulder.”
“And I have a flea on my butt,” said Umbo. “Have you locked onto the path you want?”
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