Yeah, I hoped so, too. Having been through a few time fractures myself, I had some idea what that felt like, and I wouldn’t mind trading stories.
The march up the Maisy River felt twice as long as it had going in. When we hiked up the switchbacks, I had to remind myself that I’m twenty-something, not ninety, because I thought I was going to keel over. Kitten trotted alongside me as if she were squiring her grandmother, asking, “Do you need to rest? Would you like to stop for a drink of water?”
I dreamed of a shower, and a comfy bed, and a nice supper. By the time we saw the bridge over the Maisy River Gorge, I was neck and neck with my companions. I could let myself feel sore and tired later.
We stepped onto the bridge. I walked ahead with the Minis; Ashur and Ahi brought up the rear. This is it, I thought. We made it. Unless someone has a bit of last-minute mischief they want to try.
Fire and Queenie stepped onto the platform at the far side of the bridge. Relief flooded me; I grinned and waved. Fire waved back. Her expression seemed subdued. Had she heard bad news while we were gone?
Our footsteps vibrated the metal structure. I kept my eyes on Fire all the way across, but Ashur was the focus of her troubled regard. Had she heard bad news about Nuruddin? An accident?
I glanced at Ashur—he looked so proud and happy, and seemed unaware of the undercurrent I was sensing. Had I imagined trouble? That seemed a pretty good default setting.
I kept my pace steady and gave Fire the best smile I could muster. She didn’t look in my direction until the last moment, when we joined her at the other end. Her glance held affection, possibly even gratitude.
“We did it,” said Ashur. “Did you hear the music?”
“Even the gods heard that music,” said Fire. “It was magnificent. You’re my hero.”
Ashur flushed, then half turned. “Ahi said…” He broke off, looking puzzled.
Ahi had been right behind us, but when I turned to look, she was gone. I didn’t see her on the far side of the bridge; I didn’t see her on the trail.
“Ahi!” Ashur started back. “Where—?”
“Ashur, stop!” The command in Fire’s voice froze me, too.
Ashur jerked to a halt.
“Ahi is already here,” said Fire.
Ashur frowned. “She was just—we’re in the salvage yard, there couldn’t be—”
“There couldn’t be a time fracture?” I didn’t like the emotion I heard in Fire’s voice. Ashur didn’t either. I think I guessed what she was going to say before he did. “Ahi’s got her own fracture. It extends farther into the yard than any other.”
“Where is she, then?” demanded Ashur.
“She’s here,” said Fire. “She’s me, Ashur.”
25
The Alliance of (Semi-)Ancient Races
The Minis and I gave Ashur and Fire a little space. I remembered how much Ahi had teased him on the trail, but also how she had given him credit, suffered through the dangers with him, held his hand when he felt at the end of his rope.
Now he showed her his Nuruddin face, stern and demanding explanations. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t tamper with the past,” said Ahi/Fire. “I already knew how our adventure would turn out. I knew it would be a success. If I wanted it to stay that way, I couldn’t tell you what to expect.”
“What about now?” he demanded. “What are you holding back, Ahi?”
Fire looked at me.
said Queenie.
She turned back to him. “You’re going to travel farther than anyone on Olympia has ever imagined, Ashur.”
“You know that for sure?” he demanded. “You’ve seen my future?”
“I know it, but no, I haven’t seen it. I know what you’re capable of.”
I think any other kid would have kept arguing out of pure frustration, but Ashur had shouldered so much responsibility already. He accepted Fire’s explanation.
Fire didn’t press him. She didn’t say, Are we still friends? or remind him that she was the adult and he the teenager. Looking at her now, I saw the responsible girl who had been so confident, who had kept secrets that would have stymied adults four times her age. Here was the girl who had figured out what the model of Time and Space had been trying to tell her in Seaside. Now she and Queenie used it when targeting for Queen’s Fire.
They call me Miss Kick-Butt.
“Are we done?” Ashur said. “Is it time to go home?”
“Yes,” said Fire. “I’ll escort you back through the yard.”
Kitten, who—bless her—had been silent up to that point, said, “Rocket and Teddy must be dreadfully worried about us.”
Fire smiled at her. “No, dear. You’ve only been gone a few hours.”
That explained why the sun was beating down on the top of our heads.
Seriously. Would I ever sleep again?
* * *
Walking back through the apocrypha—both sorted and unsorted—was a different experience, now that we had ventured into the graveyard. Those could have come from the Misfit Toys, I mused as we wandered past a rack of oddities, and then, farther down the row, Those could have come from Klaatu Canyon.
The Minis had regained their confidence, and Ashur seemed to be processing recent events with the resilience of the young. Fire sparked most of my interest now. I finally asked her.