The Restorer

by Sharon Hinck

  “No. But that didn’t discourage them. My father didn’t have the Restorer signs until a year before the battle. That’s when he began to hear and see things no one else could, and heal from injuries. I thought it was all wonderful—my father with special powers from the One—until later.”

  I reached for his hand and held it as he continued.

  “To make matters worse, we learned that Kahlarea heard about the prophecy. They sent assassins to kill me. I was about fourteen the first time. The Rendor guardians caught them before they could enter the village. Then, a few years later, they tried again. They came in the night. They knew exactly which home we lived in, but they didn’t know I was visiting my cousins that night. They slipped into the house and killed the only person they found. My mother.” Mark’s head leaned more heavily against mine.

  I shifted so that he could rest his head on my shoulder. I stroked his hair and drew a shuddering breath, fighting back tears. What could I say to comfort him? When I met him in my world, Mark only told me his parents had died. He rarely talked about his family. Now I began to understand the weight he had carried all these years.

  “The head guardian of Rendor decided I should train because it was expected—all the Restorers in the past came from the guardians. I didn’t have any calling to be a guardian, but I started the training anyway. I was miserable. The Rendor Council chief saw what was happening and convinced the village to let me become an apprentice councilmember instead. He mentored me, and I spent two years in Lyric learning to serve the People and the Verses. Then Kahlarea tried again.” Mark’s eyes looked across the room, but he was focusing on something I couldn’t see.

  “They sent two assassins right into Lyric. They almost succeeded that time.” A shudder ran through him, and his gaze dropped to the floor. “I couldn’t let other people die for me again. I went to the eldest songkeeper of Lyric, and he showed me the portal entrance and gave me the three stones. I was supposed to leave for a while, until the danger was past, and then return to ‘save the people.’ But I stayed. I made a new life. I met you. I didn’t want to be a Restorer, and I never came back.”

  “Mikkel’s son will provide a greater Restoration,” I repeated. “Mark, your portal brought me here. You did provide the next Restorer.”

  He lifted his head and looked into my eyes. “Yes, but it’s you. May the One help me; I don’t want to watch you die.” His voice broke.

  The last of my doubts about him dissolved. Even though he had kept so much hidden from me for the past two decades, his love for me had always been real. I hugged him and prayed for the right words. “Mark, we can’t run from the path the One calls us to.” I rested my forehead against his. “You’ve told me that so many times when the kids were driving me crazy. It’s not about succeeding. It’s about obedience. You told me that even if I can’t see the results, I need to trust that God will use my efforts—just do what He asks me to for that moment.”

  “But I don’t understand how he plans to use us,” Mark interrupted. “Things are so much worse than when I left only a few years ago. Hazor is demanding tribute, the Council is wavering, you’ve told me the Rhusicans have weaseled their way into villages and into people’s minds, and Cameron nearly succeeded in defiling the Records.”

  “But he didn’t succeed. And Hazor won’t succeed. And we’ll find a way to get rid of the Rhusicans. Mark, remember the promises. When enemies surround us, He is our tower.”

  Mark took a deep breath. “You’re right. We’ll just handle one problem at a time. But, Susan?”

  “Hm?” I asked, sinking down to rest my head on his shoulder.

  “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “Of course. Mark?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I thought this was the big end-of-the-season Feast day.”

  “It is.”

  “So, when do we get to eat?” I felt Mark’s shoulders shaking even before I heard his deep laugh.

  “All right.” He grinned. “Let me show you Lyric on my favorite day of the season.”

  By unspoken agreement, we put aside discussions of war, politics, religious apostasy, and mental poison—and ventured out into the city. Even travelers skipping into other universes need to eat.

  All the normal businesses were closed, and people filled the streets and courtyards, especially near the huge city entrance. Mark was patient as I looked my fill at the crystal-lined tunnel and the huge open square surrounded by towers, including the Council office building and the breathtaking central worship tower. Then Mark pointed out other places to me.

  “And down that alley was the door we would sneak through to watch the guardians train. My friends and I would sneak up a back stairway and hide on an overhanging ledge whenever we heard they were holding sword competitions.”

  His stories charmed me. Mark was the person I knew best in the world, but now I discovered new layers of the experiences that had formed him.

  Then he showed me a courtyard full of trees, blue ferns, and glowing pathways. “This is where I used to come when I wanted to spend time with a girl,” he said.

  I felt an odd pang of jealousy and slapped his arm with the back of my hand. “Hey, let’s walk down memory lane some other time. We’re supposed to be finding food, remember?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. He was enjoying teasing me. “All right. This way.”

  Restaurants weren’t common on this world, even in the large city of Lyric. But on Feast day, many people offered favorite family recipes to the influx of guests from the surrounding clans. Mark led me several blocks down a side street. We ducked into the storefront of a Lyric transtech. It was the kind of store Mark would have loved browsing in on a normal day. There were shelves full of sleek items with levers I couldn’t even guess at the purpose of. But today the owners were serving spicy wedges of meat on a skewer. Mark pulled some thin metallic squares from his pocket and slid two of them across the counter to the transtech.

  I waited until we were back outside to start asking questions. “What was that? Is that money? How did you get some? Why don’t they use it in Braide Wood?”

  Mark handed me my food. Some sauce dripped onto my hand, and I paused to lick it off. “Mm. This is better than barbequed ribs!”

  “He’s got the best recipe for roasted lehkan in town,” Mark said.

  I gaped at him, horrified. People ate the spirited creatures I loved to ride?

  His eyes gave him away first as they began to sparkle. Then he burst into laughter. “I’m kidding. It’s caradoc, a kind of mutton. They raise the animals on the Corros Fields. And the chips I gave him are magnetic power cells. They’re used in the heat trivets, light walls, and other tools. It’s a common currency in Lyric and Rendor.”

  “I’ve never seen them before.” I slid a piece of the caradoc off the wooden skewer and bit into it. The meat was tender, and I recognized some of the spices from one of the soups Tara made frequently. My mouth tingled.

  Mark laughed. “It could only happen in Braide Wood. I can’t believe you’ve been here for over two weeks, and you’ve never seen a magchip.”

  It was odd that I’d never even thought about currency until now. The people of Braide Wood had shared their hospitality freely and used a barter system within their village. In contrast, the large city of Lyric was beginning to feel too similar to my world.

  We savored every bite of the meat, strolling down quiet side streets where most of the shops were closed. The noise of large crowds occupied the main square only a few blocks away, but now that I’d satisfied my curiosity, I wasn’t eager to continue in that direction. I stopped to peer in the window of a fabric store. Although most of the colors were muted and earth-toned, they were rich with beautiful woven textures. I sighed with pleasure at a display of three-peg designs, and wished the store were open for business. I turned to ask Mark if we could come back some t
ime.

  He was studying me with the same appreciation I had been showing for the fabrics.

  I looked into his eyes and felt my breath catch in a moment of uncertainty. Mark and I had become so comfortable with each other after nearly twenty years of marriage. We finished each other’s sentences and could practically read each other’s thoughts. Of course many of those sentences and thoughts in recent years had centered on Jake’s college applications, Karen’s play practices, whether our old blue van could hold out for one more year, and whether Mark should remodel the bathroom.

  Today I was transported back to our first months of marriage: so much to learn about each other, depths to explore, wounds that we could help heal in each other. It felt like we were starting over again—confronting new battles to be fought side by side. Yearning blossomed deep inside me, and I suddenly wanted more than gentle hugs and the grasp of his hand. All these weeks away from him, every inch of my skin had longed for his touch. Now he was here, and I’d been holding him at a safe distance. “Mark, I think I’ve seen enough of Lyric. Let’s go back to your rooms.”

  “Are you sure?” His gaze moved restlessly, skimming my forehead, my cheeks, my lips.

  Was I sure? I had thought I’d never forgive him for the secrets he’d kept from me. But after my encounter with the One that morning, I no longer wanted to press down the warmth that grew when I looked at him. I nodded and saw the crinkles deepen around his eyes as he smiled.

  I licked my lips and tasted the peppery caradoc sauce.

  Mark stepped closer and pushed back the hood of my cloak, burying his hands in my hair. When he bent down to kiss me, I expected the comfortable warmth I always felt when we kissed good-bye before he left for work. Instead, his intensity startled me, and my body felt like it had been recharged with new magchips.

  “Definitely electromagnetic . . .” I murmured when we paused to breathe.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been wondering what the power source is on this world.”

  Mark gave me a lazy smile and pulled me even closer. “I didn’t know you were so interested in technology,” he said. “I could have told you. It’s magnetic attraction.”

  Chapter

  24

  We spent the rainy hours of the early afternoon back in Mark’s rooms, rediscovering the familiar in each other and exploring the differences that were so new to us. We were dozing in a tangle of interlocking limbs when we heard a clear tone ring though the air outside.

  I sat up quickly, alarmed. It sounded a little like Tristan’s signaler, and brought back memories of the attack on Morsal Plains.

  “Just the call to the second gathering,” Mark murmured, pulling me within range for a kiss.

  “They didn’t do that this morning.” I brushed strands of hair back from my eyes.

  “Everyone knows when first light is. They don’t need a call for that.”

  “Mark, didn’t it drive you crazy living here? Why don’t they all just get watches?” This world never developed sundials because there was no visible sun. Perhaps that’s why they also didn’t divide time in tight neat hours the way I was used to.

  “Actually,” Mark rolled onto his back and stretched, “I found all the clocks and alarms and timers in our world a lot harder to cope with.”

  I was delighted he said “our world.” Sometimes, watching him here in Lyric, I wondered which place he felt the most allegiance toward, and whether he would really want to return to “our world.” I could understand the pull of this place, but the thought of my children kept my attachment to this world firmly fixed as short term. I hoped Mark would feel the same way after more time here. I pushed that worry aside along with the blanket over us and raced Mark to the washroom.

  A short time later, we strolled back down the streets toward the tower, fingers interlocked. The streets were wet again from the daily wash of rain. The sounds of stray drops falling from the eaves and the splash of occasional pools of water under our feet complemented the voices around us as people gathered from every part of the city.

  The mood this afternoon was very different from the somber procession of the morning. I got the impression that we weren’t the only people who had experienced an encounter with the One or a healing of relationships today. Glancing sideways at Mark, I was glad to see some of the fatigue and worry had eased from his face. A pale line of stubble shadowed his jaw, and his wavy hair was more tousled than usual. He had never looked better.

  When we reached the central square, bursts of laughter and animated conversation gave way to song. But this call to worship was as lively as a tarantella, and musicians clustered near each tower door, urging the tempo forward. I would have loved to stop and study the instruments. Some of the drums were similar to Irish bodhráns, and the wooden flutes might have come from my world. But other instruments were more difficult to identify, and the flow of people didn’t allow me to linger.

  This afternoon Feast gathering was pure celebration: Verses, prayers, and songs. The air sparkled with hope. While the dais in the center rotated slowly again, those of us on the main floor began to circle in a counter direction. Soon it seemed everyone’s hand was linked into a chain with others, forming circles within circles, dancing simple steps and weaving patterns.

  I joined in, unconcerned about my footwork, pulled along by the energy and freedom of letting every part of my spirit and body rejoice. I absorbed every second of joy and stored it deep within, like fuel to strengthen me for the days ahead.

  The gathering ended too soon. The overhead windows revealed a darkening sky. After a powerful benediction from the eldest songkeeper, and an exhortation to remember the Verses and follow them each day, men and women hurried out into the square and toward their homes on the outer rings of the city.

  When we arrived back at Mark’s rooms, we found Wade already waiting for us outside. We welcomed him in, although Mark was less excited to see him than I was. He rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head as he gestured Wade ahead of us into the room.

  Wade eyed the fabric-covered stack of Records on the table uneasily. “Is it really them?”

  I nodded. “We got them back before Cameron could change them.” I left Mark to explain while I went into the kitchen and heated water for clavo. I kept my hearing focused on their conversation. They seemed to be getting along, so Mark must have forgiven Wade’s ambush in the Council office basement, even though the bump on the back of his head was still tender.

  Mark and Wade had never met before Mark left this world, but they had grown up in the same generation, so they soon discovered common acquaintances. By the time the clavo was ready, Linette had arrived as well. She brought several miniature bread loaves, which she placed on the low table near the couch. I added a plate of fruit. Wade dragged a couple chairs from around the taller table where the Records rested toward the couch, eager to keep some distance between him and the covered stack he still eyed warily now and then. Linette also glanced over at the table, with something between reverence and hunger in her gaze.

  When Mark and I sat down on the couch, our closest hands reached for each other’s reflexively.

  Linette smiled at us shyly. “You had a chance to talk?”

  I nodded and thanked her again for her help. Then we dove into the food and our planning with equal eagerness.

  We each shared pieces of information. Wade was very curious about Mark’s experience. He was familiar with the vision that had led to the assassination attempts and was fascinated by how much older Markkel was now. Wade had also dug further into my arrest, and had confirmed that it was not a sanctioned Council action. Cameron must be feeling very sure of his power to have acted on his own that way.

  As we developed our strategy, I kept feeling pieces were missing in our understanding of the threats to the People. There was a rapid shift going on in the Council, and I didn’t understand the agend
a of the Rhusicans or Cameron. When Wade and Linette began talking about Tristan’s trip to Cauldron Falls to hunt for Dylan, I remembered something that had seemed odd to me.

  “Tristan isn’t the head guardian of all the clans, right?” I interrupted.

  Wade answered with defensive pride. “He’s head guardian of Braide Wood. That’s an important clan.”

  “Yes, but there are lots of other head guardians, right? And more powerful clans?” Wade nodded, not sure what I was getting at.

  “When Cameron was questioning me . . .” My throat tightened, and I had to swallow before I could continue. Mark squeezed my hand in silent support. “He kept asking me questions about Tristan. He seemed obsessed with him—what his plans were. And in the transport, I saw him watching Tristan. There was rage on his face. I know Cameron is trying to disband the guardians, but why does he hate Tristan so much?”

  Wade and Linette looked at each other. Linette turned to Mark. “I forgot it happened in the year after you left. You wouldn’t have heard about it.”

  “What?” Mark and I both asked.

  Wade rubbed at his beard, but when it was obvious we weren’t going to let the subject drop, he shifted in his chair and cleared this throat. “Tristan was training a group of young guardians. I was there. It was my second year, and I was going to be commissioned soon. We had a group of new trainees about as green as early-season grain. They didn’t know the first thing about how to patrol, but Tristan was taking us out to the Grey Hills, near Shamgar. He is the best guardian I’ve ever met,” Wade added staunchly.

  “I know,” I said. “But please tell us what happened.”

  “One of the first-years was leading a small patrol. He disobeyed Tristan’s orders and headed too far out. I think he was showing off. He was like that—never following orders.” Wade paused again. “It wasn’t Tristan’s fault. The trainee was out too far from base camp.”

  Could I coax him to get to his point in our lifetime? I leaned forward, ready to say something, but Mark gave a small shake of his head. I sat back and waited.