by Ted Blasche
He raised an eyebrow. No drink? Maybe helping her would not be such a good idea after all. “Farrell Dunwood, pleased to make your acquaintance, milady.” He swept his arm out and bent at the waist in an elaborate bow, earning a soft chuckle from her. “How may I address you? And what do you mean, it’s not your world? Did you not just say you came from there?”
“My name is Naria,” she said. “I meant that I didn’t come from there originally. You’re not the first one to be cursed with an Eris particle.” She pulled down the lapel of her tunic, showing him a white opaque collar covered in silver threads, exactly the same as the one in her hand. “I lived on a world similar to yours, maybe a little more advanced.”
“And they came for you too.” He realised.
She nodded, drawing her knees up under her chin, staring past him, her eyes losing focus. “Thirteen years ago. I was with child and my man had just died of a fever. When the particle came to me, I was starving, and on the verge of throwing myself off a bridge.”
“So it favours those who are at their lowest ebb.” He had wondered why the particle had chosen him, worthless as he was.
Naria’s eyes widened. “You know, I hadn’t thought about it before, but yes, I suppose it does. The last couple of afflicted I tracked down were destitute too. Not that it makes much difference to the people I work for. The first time you use it, they know. They have all this monitoring equipment, scanning the universe, waiting for the next one to show.”
Farrell sighed. There she went again talking about things beyond his comprehension. She must have realized that her words sailed over the top of his head, because she smiled. He liked her smile; it made her eyes shine.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I forget you have no idea what I’m talking about. The Newarth Order—the people who want me to bring you back—have a com … magic box, the sole purpose of which is to look for the particle. The particle came from another magic box in the first place. One of their sci … wizards created it as a joke.”
“A joke?” Farrell could not imagine anyone making a magic box for a joke.
She smiled again, then pursed her lips, brow furrowed. “Long ago, people from Newarth went into space in giant ships, looking for other worlds to live on. Since we’re all so similar in physiology, it’s likely they settled on our worlds too, but that’s a story for another day. On one of these worlds, a sci . . . wizard created the magic box. Its sole purpose was to steal things from the home world.”
“Not very nice,” Farrell said.
“I think he did it for fun.” She shrugged. “He called it the Eris drive; Eris is the name of a trickster goddess on the original home world. Anyway, long story short, the powers that be on the home world weren’t very pleased. They sent out a fleet of ships to destroy the Eris drive, and ended up destroying the wizard’s world along with it. And that should have been the end of that.”
“But the pieces of the box retained the wizard’s power.” Farrell thumped his knee.
She grinned. “Something like that. Particles from the Eris Drive were scattered all over the known universe. It’s taken them centuries to track each one down. And yours is the only one they haven’t trapped.”
Farrell thought for a moment. The end of the last particle would mean no more magic, for anyone. But then, he could understand the people of her world being angry at their things disappearing all the time.
If he helped her, it would mean no more drink. No more forgetting. He was not sure he had the strength for that. Without the drink, he would have to remember his wife and son as he had found them that day, instead of the pride in their eyes when he waved them goodbye. If he did not help her, he would have her child on his conscience, and her child was alive. How could he keep a child from his mother?
“So,” he said. “How can I help you get back there?”
Naria rose and frowned down at him, her eyes searching his. “You’re serious?” Her words came out on a tremor. “You’d help me, knowing I have to take you back with me?”
Farrell shrugged. “Can’t say as I like the idea of never drinking again. But to keep a boy from his mother would be a terrible crime.” If he had wanted to, he could have run, then, while she stared at him in bewilderment. But he no longer wanted that. “I’d like to ask a favour, if I might,” he said. When she stiffened, her eyes growing sharp, he smiled. “Don’t worry, I haven’t changed my mind. And I don’t want anything you’d be unwilling to give up.”
“Well?” She crossed her arms over her chest, one eyebrow raised.
“I would love a hot bath and a change of clothes. I don’t know about you, but I’m half-frozen. And since I’m to give up the drink, I’d like to enjoy an ale or two before I go.”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t know how to get you those things. I already told you, we don’t have coin there anymore. Although .…” Her eyes widened and a slow smile curved her mouth. “If I describe something to you, do you think you can picture it well enough to transfer it here?”
Farrell shrugged. “I can try. What do you have in mind?”
“Jewellery.”
“Reckon I can.” He nodded. “And I reckon I know a place where they’ll buy it.”
“Good.” She grinned. “Here’s what I want you to imagine.”
**
Naria lay on a lumpy bed, hoping the mattress was not host to any unwelcome guests. The sound of a deep voice singing, loud and out of tune, came from the next room, along with vigorous splashing noises. Farrell was obviously enjoying his bath. Which was great, because he needed one. It was only when they had entered the confined space of the inn that she noticed how badly he stank; prior to that, she had only caught a slight whiff, like wet dog.
After several tries, he had managed to transfer the item she described. It was nothing special, at least to anyone but her. A plain gold chain with a diamond pendant, but the diamond was large enough for their needs. They had both bought new clothes, so that she would not stand out as odd at the inn. They had rented a room each, so that Farrell could spend his last night on his home world sleeping off several skins of Balport’s best ale. That was all he had wanted in exchange for losing his freedom. It seemed so little.
Oh, he would have some kind of life on the other world. An existence. He would be fed, clothed and allowed to live out the rest of his days collared, so that the Eris particle would be trapped when he died, unable to find another host. Maybe he would even find happiness, of a sort. But he would not be free. If anything happened, if one of the other particles escaped, somehow, they would use him to track it down, just as they had used her, time and time again. Every occasion she had given another being the choice of death or subjugation, her conscience had died a little. And when they had chosen death, it had taken a piece of her soul.
Naria could not imagine Farrell being able to take a life to preserve his own. Not after all he had been through. The man was willing to give up everything for her son’s sake. A child he did not know. Guilt gnawed at her gut, but what could she do? An idea nudged its way to the front of her mind, and she shook her head. No, that would never work. If she failed, she would lose everything. She rose and paced the floor, pushing the idea away. It would be fine. Farrell would be fine.
She slumped. No, he would not. A heart like his would wither and die on that world.
She crossed the room in two bounds and tapped at the door. The singing and splashing stopped.
“I have to go out for a little while, Farrell,” she said. “I know you don’t have to, but I’m trusting you to be here when I get back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll tell you when I return.” Without waiting for a response, she picked up the leather coin-purse from the wash-stand and hurried out.
**
Farrell pulled on a soft new shirt and thick woollen tunic over his britches. Glancing back at the scummy grey water in the tub, he grimaced. He grabbed his thick new socks and opened the door between the two rooms. Na
ria was still not back.
As he sat there, combing the tangles from his hair and beard, he began to wonder if he had been too hasty in his agreement to help her. After all, it meant leaving his world for good. He would never be able to visit the graves he had dug for his wife and child. But then, he had not been back there since the day he buried them. A familiar ache tightened the back of his throat as he allowed himself to remember that day for the first time in a decade.
Lord Gradan had lost the war, along with his land, and the new landowner had taken great pleasure in killing the families of those who had fought on Gradan’s behalf. Farrell had returned to find his farm silent, his cattle taken as fealty, crops burned. Hanging from a beam inside the house for him to find, so cold and still ….
A strangled sound tore from the back of his throat, and he pressed his hands to his face. “I’m sorry. You deserved better. I should have been there.”
Three ale-skins stood on top of the fireplace. He picked one up and uncorked it, inhaling. It smelled of forgotten nights and lost days, and too many unshed tears. He raised it to his lips, eager to escape the pain. Then he lowered the skin, replacing the cork. Not this time. This time he would let himself feel their loss, before he left them behind. He brought their faces to mind, recalling the sparkle of his wife’s green eyes, the dimple in his son’s cheeks when he laughed.
“I love you,” he whispered.
The door opened and he turned, clenching his jaw.
“Are you …?” Naria stood in the doorway, hands behind her back, her expression uncertain.
“Come in.” He tried to smile, knowing the picture of misery he must present. “I was just thinking about … remembering them. You know?”
She returned his smile, but sadness brightened her eyes. She knew.
“So, what is it you need me to do to get us to your world?” He asked.
Naria’s gaze flicked to the ale skins on the dresser. “What about …?”
“No need.” He shook his head, not looking at her. “I’ll say my goodbyes sober.”
He kept his gaze averted, picking at a loose thread on the hem of his new tunic, and was not aware of her crossing the room until he felt her hand on his arm. When he raised his head, her amber eyes were bright, her smile tight.
“I understand,” she said.
Farrell blinked. “I know.” Then he rubbed his hands together, forcing cheer. “Now, what is it you want me to get? And where did you go?”
She pulled her other arm from behind her back, producing a bundle of parchments. Inside the scrolls were ink and quills. “I’m going to draw some things that I want you to get for me.”
“Some things?” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you just wanted me to fetch a magic door to get us back there?”
Naria laid her purchases down on the bed nearest the window. “You’ll see. Now, come and watch me, so I can tell you what these items look like. Hopefully, it will help you picture them more easily.”
Farrell shrugged and perched on the edge of the bed. Naria dipped a quill in the ink and spread out a roll of parchment. “See this?” She drew a cube shape, with rounded corners and two rows of squares along the front edge of the top face. Also on top, a large square, with the same rounded corners. This she shaded. “This box is made of a silver-coloured metal. These little square buttons I’m drawing are red, and they pulse with light. The second row of smaller buttons are green, and they pulse alternately. See that square, it’s made of black glass, or at least that’s what it looks like. It’s more complicated than that.”
“What does it do?” Farrell leaned forward, trying to picture the item.
Naria glanced up with a sheepish smile. “It’s a kind of magic box. A very important magic box.” When she was done, she laid it aside and began another picture. This was a small oblong shape, with triangular cut-outs along the edge, and a pattern of parallel lines running from one end to the other. “This item is copper-coloured. And these lines, here.” She traced one with her finger. “These are silver.”
Farrell nodded, noting how thin the item was, unlike the cube. “How big is it? Is that important?”
Naria glanced up at him, frowning. “I hadn’t thought about that. I just wanted to get them as detailed as possible.” She picked up the drawing of the cube. “This is quite big.” Her gaze swept the room, and she pointed to the wash-stand. “It’s as tall as that, and as wide as it’s high. A perfect cube.” She discarded that picture and picked up the second one. “This one is much smaller. Hold out your hand.” Farrell did as she said, and she traced an oblong shape in his palm. “About this big. Got it?”
Farrell helped her move one of the beds back against the wall, to make room, then he picked up the picture of the box. “Silver, you say, with red and green glowing buttons.”
Naria smiled. “And a black screen.”
**
Imperator Mankus wished his chamber door was not automatic. That way, he could have slammed it. Waiting thirty seconds for it to glide closed after he squeezed through did not have the same effect as a good slam. And what he needed right now was a damned good slam. Of all the ridiculous ideas. To expect him, leader of the greatest nation on Newarth, to show deference. And to a woman! Well they could think again. They could stick their treaty where—
The door chimes sounded. Mankus pressed the intercom. “Yes?”
“Your dinner, my lord.”
The sound of Jorgal’s calm voice eased Mankus’ temper a little. “Come in.” He pressed a button and the door swished open.
His security chief entered, beaming. “You’re going to like this.” He carried a covered silver platter over to the table and lifted the lid with a bow.
“Is it …?” Mankus licked his lips.
“Mutton.” Jorgal grinned.
Mankus hurried into his dressing room and pulled his heavy chain of office over his head. He laid it in its velvet box, his fingers caressing the rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds. Gaudy was the only word to describe it, but it was also unique. No one would ever be able to imagine such a chain unless they had seen it. He pressed a button on the polished walnut dresser and the box closed and slid into a secret compartment.
“Any news on the particle?” He tugged off his purple velvet ceremonial robe, dropping it on the dark marble floor for his servant to pick up.
“Nothing for a while.” Jorgal pulled out the single dining chair from the table as Mankus entered the room. “There was a signature a short time after she landed but nothing since. I’m sure Thirty-six has it all in hand. She’s very capable.”
“Indeed.” Mankus sank gratefully into the chair and kicked off his shoes. Leaning over the pie, he took a deep breath, savouring the aroma of meat and gravy, and buttery pastry. He picked up his knife and fork, pausing only to admire the golden-brown crust.
“Oh dear.”
Mankus looked up. Jorgal was staring at the wall, his eyes unfocused.
“What is it?”
“I’m afraid something has gone missing. Just now.” Jorgal’s expression grew incredulous. “You’re not going to believe this.”
“Believe what?” Mankus glanced longingly at his pie. “Can’t this wait?”
Jorgal shook his head, his face ashen. The man’s jaw tightened, panic widening his eyes.
“Well?” Mankus’ voice rose in pitch and volume. “What is it?”
“Well, my lord, it’s … Oh, dear.” Jorgal’s gaze swept to the table.
Mankus closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. Slowly, he turned his head until he was facing the table. When he opened his eyes, his shoulders slumped. It was gone. He leapt up, grabbing Jorgal by the collar. “I want them found. Now. Do you hear me?”
Jorgal’s shoulders rose, and he flinched. “I’m afraid we’re not going to be able to do that, my lord. They’ve taken the tracking computer.”
**
Naria stared at the computer, hardly able to believe what she had done. What Farrell had done. It d
id not pulse; there was no power source in this world, and the screen was black and lifeless. Crouching, she picked up the sliver of copper and silver wire that was even more valuable, to her at least.
“Well?” Farrell pointed at the computer. “Is that the right thing?”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed. “It is exactly the right thing.”
“Good.” He held out a steaming pie dish. “Because now I’m going to enjoy this beauty while I have the chance. Want some?”
“You stole another pie?” Naria laughed, shaking her head. “No thanks, maybe later.”
He leaned over the dish and inhaled. The look of pure enjoyment on his face made her smile. “So.” He nodded to the large object on the floor. “What is it?”
She bit her lip, wondering how to explain that the computer was the central nervous system of Newarthian inter-stellar tracking capabilities. “Let’s just say that without this magic box, they can’t come after us.”
“After us? I don’t understand. I thought you had to take me there.”
“I thought so too, Farrell.” She smiled. “But you changed my mind. It’s been a long time since I saw real kindness.”
“So without that big box, they can’t find us?” Farrell did not look convinced.
“No, and it’s useless to them here, there is no power to run it.” Even so, she crossed to the fireplace and picked up the iron poker. Holding it in both hands, she rose on tiptoe over the computer and brought the poke down hard, shattering the screen.
She ran her fingers over the slender piece of copper in her hand, following the lines of the silver wires threaded through it. The key.
“What about your boy?” Farrell’s green eyes narrowed. “How will you get back to him now?”
“I won’t,” she said. “But that’s all right.” She raised the key to her throat, passing it across the collar she wore, the collar that blocked her own Eris particle’s power. A soft beep issued from the key, and the collar released its grip around her neck. She threw it on the bed. “There. Now, please, I must have quiet.”
Closing her eyes, she brought Kodi’s face to mind, dwelling on every detail in turn, his smooth brown skin, dark eyes, flecked with amber and surrounded by long black lashes that curled at the end. She marked the way his black hair shone like raw silk, and how it stuck up at the front no matter what he did to plaster it down. Next, his wide smile, so like his father’s, all gleaming white teeth with one incisor that did not sit quite straight. The tiny scars around his elbow from when he fell off his bicycle. The soft tones of his voice. The way he smelled of soap and sunshine. Until her image of him was so real, so complete in her mind, that she felt as though she could reach out and touch him. Tingling heat in her fingertips spread up her arms and she gasped, opening her eyes. The air shimmered and shifted, and there stood Kodi.