Dr. Ford stepped to the side as Mark started to draw some wide arcs with his stick. “Camels can go wherever they want as long as they’re dead in the futures in question. In theory, Jake can open portals to a whole bunch of futures for Mantis, which would be exactly what Mantis wants. Camels are rare because you have to find someone who has witch blood, who’s dead in the future, and who’s willing to help you—and most witches wouldn’t be willing to help. It’s taboo in witching circles to be a camel, and it was forbidden by the Witching Guild long ago because it means you’re interfering with the timeline. We used to have a slang saying a few decades ago—‘Don’t smoke’. It’s a play on Camel cigarettes… Smokes, get it? It means don’t break the rules. But it also means don’t die. Witches used to send each other off with that saying.” Abbey recalled the scrawl in her mother’s yearbook: Don’t smoke. And Sandy’s words: “You have to smoke on the docks.”
“But now,” Dr. Ford continued, with a grave heave of his small chest, “we’ve lost too much of our heritage. We’ve all but died out. A lot of witches never had children. Knowing the future is apparently an effective form of birth control. Others went into hiding and tried to lead normal lives, never telling their children about their heritage. Most of the remaining witches don’t even know they have witching blood, and they certainly don’t know the rules or conventions, leaving them open to manipulation by people like Mantis.”
“But is there some future in which Jake isn’t dead? Like near futures, say?”
“Yes, but not many. The best camels are those who are already dying of a disease, even if they don’t know it yet. That way they won’t be around for many futures. And besides, the stones tend to send you at least ten to twenty years into the future to some pivotal moment in your life.”
Abbey shivered. “That’s horrible. Is Mantis even going to tell him?”
Dr. Ford shrugged. “The use of camels is forbidden.”
They stood in silence for a few minutes while Abbey tried to tie the strands of what she understood together. But she couldn’t quite wind them.
“I don’t get it,” she said finally, crossing her arms over her chest. “Paradoxes have to involve some contradiction. Paradoxes in time travel usually involve someone going into the past and negating their own existence—or preventing the time travel from occurring in the first place, like if they went back and killed their grandfather and then were never born. What we’re talking about is just changing the future, in the future. It may be against the rules, but it is not a paradox, not technically. Why is it called a paradox? I’d call it the timeline rule or something like that.”
Dr. Ford drew himself up to his full height and smoothed down his clothing, making sure everything was in place.
“Well, young lady, I’m not sure when you think you became an expert on the stones. I, for one, quite like the name. It’s elegant and everybody knows what we’re talking about when we say it. It only just got named a few years ago, based on a drawing I found in the ancient texts. The drawing was of a pair of docks, much like the one you showed me that Mrs. Forrester did for you. It may not be as technically sound as a physics major would have it, but it works, and it was obviously the name the ancients intended.”
Dr. Ford paused to give Abbey a huffy look and continued, “We just figured out the rule in the last several decades. There are lots of gaps in knowledge between the ancients and us. We’ve only recently found some of the old texts. Witches had disappeared for years in the stones, but nobody knew why, or where they went. Because you can’t stay in the future, you realize—the stones kick you back to your own time. You probably already experienced this.”
Abbey nodded.
“It wasn’t until someone had a future in Nowhere, like Mark here, and found all the missing witches, that we finally realized what was happening, and could make the rule, and name it.”
“Are you sure it’s right, though?” Abbey asked.
Dr. Ford appeared as though he’d been struck between the eyes with a mallet. “Am I sure what’s right?” he repeated.
“The paradox rule. Do you have enough data to support your conclusion? Have you run an experiment, or at least collected some qualitative data? Do you know for sure that all the witches in Nowhere tried to alter the timeline? Do you know if some witches have successfully altered the timeline and not gone to Nowhere? There could be a lot of other explanations. Aren’t we, just by virtue of being here, changing the timeline somewhat? We fixed a computer on a spaceship in Simon’s timeline. And even if we do nothing, there’s still the observer effect. Things change when you watch them. It just seems to me you might need to do some more data collection…” Abbey trailed off, as Dr. Ford was beginning to look as if his head might explode. Veins stuck out all over his forehead and his hair appeared almost electrically charged.
“Young lady, a paradox is not you simply showing up in the future and fixing a spaceship,” he said severely. “A paradox is you killing someone that would’ve otherwise remained alive. A paradox is you deliberately messing with some major political action or giving someone vital information. A paradox is big, and as a result, it’s generally obvious. You could even potentially dispatch some minor thug and not create a paradox if that person wasn’t important in the larger timeline.”
“Says the man who’s never used the stones.” Abbey knew she was being impertinent, but she didn’t care.
Dr. Ford drew a breath and was about to speak when Mark poked him with the stick and gestured at his drawing on the ground. Dr. Ford’s eyes widened when he saw it.
“It’s the map. The map of Coventry Hill on my office wall. He’s replicated it line for line…” Dr. Ford paused and studied the map. “It’s identical, except here where Coventry Hill Stream normally runs…he’s put a circle.”
Mark nodded and tapped that spot on the map. The circle in the dirt was neatly labeled BP. He gestured at the beaver pond just beyond them.
“I think he’s trying to say that the BP on Mantis’s photocopied map of Coventry Hill stands for Beaver Pond,” explained Abbey, “and that it is in fact this beaver pond. Are you trying to say you think we’re on Coventry Hill in the future?”
Mark nodded vigorously.
“The contours of the map do match the topography here,” said Dr. Ford. “Hmm, that’s interesting. All accounts from witches that go over the stones report a familiarity in the landscape. Some say they’re sure they haven’t left this area. Others don’t know. Maybe the stones can transport you in time, but not space, that we’re always ending up on Coventry Hill… But why would Mantis have the beaver pond labeled?”
“Maybe it’s just his meeting place,” said Abbey. She looked over Mark’s shoulder and saw a single wild rose blossom in the briar, not yet dead in the crisp fall air.
“I’ve seen references to it before in the ancient texts. I never placed any importance on it. I always just assumed it was someone’s initials.”
Simon emerged into the center of the briar patch.
“Someone’s coming down the path,” he mouthed.
Abbey, Simon, and Dr. Ford all managed to find small openings in the briar to look at the path.
Abbey held her breath as the footsteps grew closer, and then a broad-shouldered man in stark white garb walked past. The moonlight glinted off the walker’s red hair and she caught a glimpse of the handsome profile of her brother.
It was Caleb. The future Caleb. He was calm, but his expression was solemn. Like a human sacrifice, she thought. Her heart ached for him. She felt Simon’s body lurch with surprise when he saw Caleb. She cupped her hands to her mouth to yell out, to tell him to stop, to warn him that Mantis was just down the path, but Simon clapped his own hand over her mouth and shook his head, his eyes wild. The future Caleb passed by and walked around the upper rim of the ravine to a path behind some bushes. He began his descent into the ravine and disappeared from view.
Abbey let out her breath and turned and looked at Simon. His jaw hung o
pen and anger creased his face. He looked at her. “You knew.”
“I knew about the future Caleb,” she admitted. “I met him that night I followed you and Caleb to this future. But I have no idea what he’s doing here. He made me promise not to tell you I met him.” And someone’s trying to kill him, she thought darkly, but I can’t tell you—or him—because then I might create a stupid paradox that isn’t even a paradox.
“We have to get someone down there so we can hear them,” said Dr. Ford. He surveyed the possibilities and then pointed his finger at Abbey. “You’re the smallest. You need to sneak down there.”
“Me?” said Abbey. “Can’t you just put some listening ear down there like the witches in Harry Potter?”
Dr. Ford sniffed. “Hmmpf. Harry Potter. That book is stuff and nonsense. Creates totally the wrong image of witches.”
“I don’t like it, but he’s right, Ab,” said Simon. “You’re the only person that might be able to get down there unseen. The sides are too steep to just walk down. I saw a goat trail of sorts on the other side of the ravine when I was out looking earlier. I might be able to lower you down the steep parts with the twine. I think it’ll hold your weight. It’s not going to hold mine. We’ll wait right at the top to protect you if you get caught.”
Protect me with what, Abbey thought sulkily.
The party made its way out of the briar and around to the other end of the ravine. Mantis, Jake, and the future Caleb had taken seats on the stumps and were conferring. Abbey’s knees shook at the thought of what they might be saying, what black magic was about to be wrought, what kind of Faustian bargain Caleb was making, and what might happen if she got caught. She comforted herself with the notion that at least the future Caleb might protect her.
The path at the top of the ravine took them close to the edge of the beaver pond and the beaver’s dam. It was a broad, muddy mound stubbled with sticks and branches with withered leaves hanging off the ends, turning the stream into a tiny trickle emerging from underneath. The beavers appeared to have retired for the night and the pond was quiet except for the skate of bugs on the surface.
They were about to turn back toward the ravine to find the path when Simon, who was in the lead, stopped short. Abbey crashed into him, and Dr. Ford into her. Only Mark, who was trailing, still carrying his stick, escaped unscathed. Abbey opened her mouth to say something smart when Simon extended a shaking finger toward the pond.
Just beyond the beaver dam, nestled in a slight indentation in the bank and reaching out into the pond, bleached wood shimmering silver in the moonlight, stood the sight that had stopped Simon in his tracks.
A pair of docks.
Chapter 14
Dark Matters and False Prophets
Abbey stared. The short square docks glimmered pale and ominous, the green pond water lazily lapping against their sides. They were the docks from Mrs. Forrester’s sketch. Sanome, who’d taken the lead again, slunk back behind Mark and dropped to a crouch. Dr. Ford sank to his knees, clutching at his chest. Abbey grabbed at his arm.
“Are you okay? What’s going on?”
Dr. Ford nodded violently while emitting wheezing noises. He pulled an inhaler from his pocket, jammed it in his mouth, and sucked in several puffs of medicine.
“The—” he paused and took another puff, “—the docks in the ancient texts. I thought they were metaphoric. Paradox, not pair of docks. All this time…”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. We don’t know anything yet,” said Simon. “We need to get Abbey down into the ravine. We can come back and investigate here after that.” He looked at Dr. Ford. “Can you walk?”
Dr. Ford nodded and rose to his feet, slipping his inhaler back into his pocket.
Simon started down the path on the switchback that would take them back to the ravine. Abbey followed. Something bothered her about the docks—like she’d seen them before…somewhere… But where?
The path took them behind the spot where Mantis, Jake, and Caleb sat talking in the ravine. A faint trail wound its way back and forth down the brush-covered banks. It would drop Abbey into the ravine unseen, and hopefully unheard, several yards from the trio. But the trail was gravelly, with vertical sections, and Abbey tried not to imagine slipping and falling all the way to the bottom. If she was quick, the twine might hold her. But if she dangled from it for longer than a few seconds, it would fray and snap. She chewed off the end of her index fingernail as she peered over the edge. She felt the rip of the nail and skin. She shoved her hand in her pocket. The others were waiting.
“I’m going to double up the twine. If anything happens,” said Simon, “if you need me, and there’s time for me to come quietly, give a bird call. If it’s an emergency, just scream, and we’ll all come down the regular path. If you’re not back in fifteen minutes, I’m coming down after you.”
“Does Mantis have a familiar?” asked Abbey.
Dr. Ford looked surprised. “Well, yes…of course. Why do you ask?”
“Is it something that’s going to smell me?”
Dr. Ford resumed the bleak, put-upon look he had worn since leaving the docks, as if his world had been turned upside down, and he no longer cared about the outcome of their current endeavor. “Sylvain has a praying mantis as a familiar. He keeps it in a small plastic container in his breast pocket. I doubt it’ll smell you.”
Abbey tied the twine around her waist twice, braced her wet sneakers against the gravel, and started to inch her way down. As she wound her way down switchbacks, Simon belayed the twine and moved along the edge of the ravine to help her in the steep sections. A cloud of dust rose up around her feet with the dislodged dirt, and larger pebbles rolled down the ravine bank. She grabbed at bushes to anchor herself and put less pressure on the twine. Her hands burned when she had to clutch the thin string to steady herself. The twine thankfully held until the final drop and then gave way with a sudden jolt. She fell to her knees on the ravine floor, biting her lip. She stifled a yelp and swallowed the blood in her mouth, her heart hammering in her chest. The creek gurgled past, just a few meters away, and the murmur of male voices drifted through the air just beyond that. They hadn’t heard her fall. Abbey pulled herself together and began to creep through the underbrush. She dropped to a crawl, working her way under a bush, trying not to think about the array of creepy six- and eight-legged things that could be under there with her.
“Can you do it or not? Because if you can’t, the deal’s off, for obvious reasons,” the older Caleb was saying.
“We can. But we can’t be sure of the results. We should beta-test it. But if you’re willing to promise payment even if it doesn’t go completely as expected, then we can proceed,” said Mantis.
“Have you alpha-tested it?” Caleb asked.
There was a long pause before Mantis replied, “Well, in theory it should work.”
“I’m not risking the lives of women and children for something that should work in theory. It’s in your interest to make sure that it works, because I can’t provide the payment unless I’m alive and in the right spot.” Abbey could hear the crunch of gravel and saw the snow-white leg of Caleb’s pants as he passed in front of her. “I’m going to gather my people and bring them here in half an hour. You test your theory while I’m gone.”
“But on whom? I need a subject.”
“Why not on yourself?”
“My dear friend. I’m too old a man to be subjected to that kind of stress.”
Something crawled across Abbey’s back. She stifled a gasp and twitched to dislodge it.
“I’m not your dear friend,” Caleb said. “We have a business arrangement. Figure something out. We meet here in half an hour.” Abbey heard a crunch of gravel that she assumed was Caleb heading up the path. After a few moments, she began to wriggle backward out of the bush. Footsteps approached and she froze. The greenery parted to reveal Mantis’s golden-toothed smile.
“Not so fast, Ms. Sinclair. It would appear the universe has c
onspired to bring me my alpha-test subject.”
Abbey tried to bolt, but got tangled up in some blackberry thorns, and Mantis was fast. He hooked his large hands under her armpits, and she had the queer sensation of being grasped by a stick insect. Mantis carried her back to the stump and placed her in a sitting position.
“Now, now then,” said Mantis, almost clucking. “No need to run. We’re all friends here. You know Jake, I understand.”
“Not personally,” Abbey said with a glare. “The others will be down to look for me any second.”
Mantis chuckled. “Your older brother looks like he might fight for you, but the other two are pretty much a wash. I need your help. You won’t be hurt, my dear girl, I promise—as long as you cooperate. I just need you and Jake to try something out for me so we can help out your brother Caleb and his people. You do want to help them, don’t you? Such a pity what’s happening in this future.”
“What do you mean— ‘what’s happening in this future’? What do you need my help with?” asked Abbey. You’ve got to be kidding, she thought. And yet it seemed that the future Caleb truly did need something from Mantis.
Mantis clapped his hands together. “Well, as I’m sure my dear friend Dr. Ford has already told you, Jake here can go to any future. But I don’t like the term ‘camel’. I feel it’s derogatory, and doesn’t give enough emphasis to the special nature of individuals who can move between worlds.”
Abbey studied Jake. He was handsome and beefy in that curly-haired, jock-like way, in his Levis and red warm-up jacket. He certainly didn’t appear to be wasting away from some unknown disease. “Jake has kindly agreed to transport your brother’s people to another future. We just need you to help him test whether the passageway is open before your brother returns.”
Abbey scrunched up her eyes. “Passageway to where? And what happens if it isn’t open? And more importantly, do we get to come back?”
“Of course you get to come back, dear girl. The whole thing should take five minutes, tops. You’ll be there and back before you know it. We just need to confirm that Jake can, in fact, transport people. You know the stones take you between times, from the present to the future and back again. Docks take you laterally from one future to another…but only the special people like Jake here can use them. Kind of like a modern-day Moses.”
A Pair of Docks Page 21