Ellen pushed open a door and slid her hand along the wall, causing the room to come to life with light before stepping inside.
Syrie followed, her chest tightening with amazement. Maybe this was simply a side effect of having no memory, but everything here seemed so absolutely revolutionary. A room dedicated just to bathing? And…oh!
Ellen twisted a metal handle and water began to flow into a small basin underneath.
“Just wanted to check that the hot water is okay,” she said. “It’s a really old house, so you can never be too sure about the plumbing. The toilet is all new, though. We just replaced that last month,” she added with a grin, pressing her hand against another handle, sending the water swirling away down a second basin.
As she and Ellen had entered the wonderful bathing room, Rosella had slipped out the door, but now she returned, carrying a soft-looking bundle of cloth.
“Here’s a nightie and a robe, Syrie. We’ll find other stuff tomorrow. When you get up, just come on downstairs and one of us will be there, likely hanging out by the coffeepot.”
“If you need anything, just yell,” Ellen said as both of them left the room. “I’m right across the hall and I’m a light sleeper, so don’t even have a concern about bothering me. Try not to worry too much. Danny’s real good at his job. I’m sure he’ll find out where you belong by morning. You get some sleep now, okay? Good night!”
When the two women had left her alone, Syrie sank to the bed. Her earlier claim of being tired was suddenly more fact than excuse. She slipped the long, silky green dress she wore over her head and replaced it with the nightie Rosella had brought her. The thing barely reached her knees, but she was too tired to worry over it for now. She pulled back the covers and crawled into the bed, realizing only after she’d burrowed under those covers that she’d left the light turned on. No matter. If she’d managed to survive all the host of other bizarre things she’d seen tonight, a little extra light certainly wasn’t going to keep her awake.
And tomorrow? Unless her memory miraculously returned as she slept, tomorrow promised to bring a whole new set of surprises.
Chapter 6
Highlands of Scotland
1295
It had taken two days of hard riding, but Patrick had caught up with the Tinkler wagons at last.
“Where is Elesyria?” he asked as soon as he pulled even with the lead wagon.
He chose to ignore the look that passed between Editha Faas and her husband as he posed his question. He also chose to ignore the pity brimming in the Tinkler woman’s eyes when she turned her gaze in his direction.
“I’m afraid she is beyond your reach, warrior,” Editha answered.
“Explain yerself,” he demanded, his impatience growing with the typical Tinkler answers.
This woman who stood before him didn’t understand the depth of his feelings. Nor did she understand what he would do to find the woman he loved. No place was beyond his reach. There was nowhere in the world he wouldn’t go to find Syrie.
“She’s not in this world, I’m afraid,” Editha said with a shake of her head, responding to him as if she’d heard his thoughts.
“Then where is she?” he asked, fear and anger bubbling together in his chest. “I ken that you spoke to her before she disappeared. You spoke to her, leaving her visibly upset. Within hours after that, she was gone. I’d have you tell me what you said to her and where she’s gone to.”
Editha climbed down from her perch on the wagon and clasped her hands in front of her, clearly signaling that she waited for Patrick to join her.
Tinklers and the Fae. They might as well be one and the same. Perhaps that was why some claimed they were one and the same.
“I merely carried warning to Elesyria of what was to come. She had angered the powers that be in her home world and they intended that she should return to them to answer for her offenses.”
“Offenses be damned,” Patrick said. “Wherever she is, I plan to bring her home. You’ve but to point me in the right direction and I’ll do the rest.”
Again Editha and her husband exchanged a pointed look.
“It’s no’ so easy as that. She’s been taken to Wyddecol, a place no uninitiated man can reach unaided.”
The Faerie home world. He should have guessed as much.
“Then aid me. Or initiate me. Whatever it takes to get me to her.”
“I’m afraid I have no way to—”
“Orabilis?” her husband suggested, his voice little more than a hiss of air.
“She does have the power,” Editha said with a hint of a shrug. “Though perhaps no’ the desire.”
Patrick’s heart pounded in his chest, his fears lifting at the possibility those words opened for him. The old witch had the power to get him to Syrie.
“Orabilis it is, then,” he said, his foot already lifted to his stirrup.
“Wait!” Editha ordered, her voice carrying an authority that stopped him where he stood. “You canna go to her alone. We’ll go with you to assist.”
With an effort, Patrick shook off the invisible hands that held him and lifted himself onto the back of his mount.
“You’ll only slow me down, Tinkler. In this part of my quest, I’ve no need for yer assistance.”
Editha snorted, turning her back to climb up onto her perch on the wagon. “The assistance we offer is no’ to you, warrior, but to Orabilis herself. There’s much she’ll need to hear before she can set about helping you. Assuming she has the desire to help you at all.”
“Suit yerself,” Patrick muttered, turning his horse in the direction he’d traveled from only days earlier.
In spite of what the Tinkler woman believed, the desires of the old witch who’d all but raised his sister were of little matter in this situation. After all, Orabilis had already declared herself to be in his debt, and the time had come for him to collect on what she owed.
Chapter 7
Ft. Collins, Colorado
1968
“Nothing.” Dan MacKail stood in the middle of his sister’s kitchen, his hands lifted helplessly. “No match on any register for the fingerprints, no missing person reports. Not one single damn thing to give us even the slightest clue as to who Syrie is or where she came from. I know we’re just a small-town department, but I even spoke with the Denver PD and they can’t find anything either. It’s like she dropped in from another planet. I’m sorry, but there it is. We haven’t been able to find out anything about who you are.”
Syrie nodded, not surprised that her missing past was still a mystery. A feeling of irrecoverable loss had plagued her every waking moment since she’d been here, as if somehow she’d known that neither Dan nor all the resources at his beck and call would find where she belonged. This just confirmed that she was truly adrift in the world.
“So, what now?” she asked at last, praying they wouldn’t kick her out of the house to fend for herself now that she was truly on her own.
It was the question that had nagged at her for the past week since she’d awakened in that park with Dan at her side.
“Don’t you worry about it,” Ellen said, sitting down next to her at the table, one hand protectively on Syrie’s shoulder. “Your past doesn’t matter. You’ll stay here with us. This is your home now.”
“A job would probably be a good idea,” Dan suggested, his voice hesitant, as if he expected her to refuse.
“That’s a great idea,” Syrie agreed. “I don’t want to be a burden to anyone.”
If there was one thing she’d already learned about her life now, it was that everyone needed to pull their own weight, and she felt as if she was far from doing that.
“Okay. Good. What can you do?” Dan asked as he headed over to the sink, his voice a little more skeptical than Syrie would have liked.
Still, she could hardly blame him. What could she do? So many things she encountered daily were items she couldn’t remember ever having seen before, let alone have any knowledge of how to
use them.
“Careful with the faucet, Danny. One wrong turn and it’ll have water all over the kitchen,” Ellen warned before turning her attention back to Syrie’s situation. “First of all, you’re not a burden, so don’t even let yourself go there. As to what she can do, secretary is out of the question. My typewriter completely confounded her.”
“Phone, too,” Rosella added as she strolled into the kitchen. “Probably rules out receptionist.”
“How about waiting tables?” Dan looked around expectantly. “At least for now. If you’re open to that, I can ask around at some of the restaurants where I know people. Maybe we can find something like that for you.”
“Yes, please.” Syrie nodded enthusiastically. “I’m more than willing to give it a try.”
It seemed the least she could do. Ellen had been so wonderful to her, taking her in and making her feel as if she belonged here. Her being able to pay her own way was even more important to her after she’d heard Ellen speaking to her fiancé last night.
Syrie hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but her bedroom window had been open and the young couple had been sitting in lawn chairs almost directly below. Robert’s voice had attracted her attention first, strident in his efforts to convince Ellen to do what he thought was best for her.
“Look, El, I stood behind you in wanting to keep this house as long as you could make a go of it. I know you love this place. But you can’t keep it up if you’re just going to go further and further into debt. You can’t keep running this place like some government-supported charity.”
“I know,” Ellen had responded. “But I can hardly ask Rosella to pay more. She can barely afford what she’s paying now and still be able to save up for her wedding.”
“Well, if that’s how you feel, the only way you’re going to make this work is to take in more boarders.” He’d snorted then and lowered his voice, but not by much. “And not freeloader boarders like this charity case Danny brought to you. You have to put your foot down, Ellen. You can’t save the whole world. I’m serious about this. Either this house starts paying its own way or you need to give up this whole crazy idea.”
“Saving the home my grandmother grew up in isn’t a crazy idea. Keeping it in the family isn’t a crazy idea. Neither is providing low-cost housing for students. And before you even think to say another word, you can leave Syrie out of this. She’ll be self-supporting soon enough. She’s just got to have a little time to get her life on track.” Ellen paused just long enough to catch her breath. “Besides, what else would you have me do? Give up the house I love? Move into an apartment and pay someone else rent?”
“We’ve talked about this before, El. There’s no good reason for us to wait until next June to get married. We can get married right now. You move into my place with me, put this house on the market and stop hemorrhaging money every month. At this rate, you’re going to go through every red cent that your grandparents left you.”
“Oh, right.” Ellen’s laugh sounded almost like a sob. “I can just see that. Your mother, deprived of her social event wedding of the century? Your parents already think I’m not good enough for you. If we did something like that, she’d never let me live it down. No, Robby. That isn’t an option and you know it as well as I do.”
They’d lowered their voices then so that Syrie couldn’t hear any more of their conversation, but it hadn’t mattered. She had heard all she’d needed to hear. If Dan could find a job for her, any kind of job, she was taking it. Ellen had already done so much for her, it seemed that the least she could do was begin to repay her new friend’s kindness with a little cold, hard cash.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this? Waitressing is hard work, dealing with all the different personalities, and it’s long hours on your feet. But, if you end up in the right place, it can earn you good money in tips.”
Syrie jerked her attention back to the moment as Ellen spoke to her, realizing only now that everyone else had gone, leaving just the two of them. “I’m not one to fear hard work.”
“No, I know that. I really appreciate how you’ve pitched in around here to help with cleaning and all. It’s just that…” Ellen tipped her head to one side, her brow wrinkled with concern. “It’s just that, since Danny suggested a job for you, well, you just seem kind of troubled today.”
“Troubled,” Syrie repeated, all but biting her tongue to keep from laughing. Or was it tears that threatened? She couldn’t be sure, but whichever it was, she breathed deeply, stuffing all emotion back in the box where it belonged before saying more. “My troubles have nothing to do with your brother’s suggestion. For a fact, I’m grateful to him. I need something to do with myself. Something that doesn’t allow me to sit and brood as I have been. With each passing day, I feel more and more as if I’ve misplaced something. Something important. Something I don’t want to go on without. Does that make sense?”
“Oh, Syrie.” Ellen leaned into her, capturing Syrie within a big hug. “Of course it does, my friend. You’ve lost everything, everyone who was dear to you. Your whole life is a blank slate. I can’t imagine how I’d bear up under similar circumstances. But don’t you worry. You have a home here with me. Rosella and I are your family now. We’ll find you a job and, I promise you, Syrie, things will get better for you. Once you start to rebuild your new life and make more friends, that something you fear you’ve lost won’t haunt you the way it does now.”
Syrie hoped Ellen was right. She hoped it would all get easier. She hoped Dan would find her a job quickly. Keeping her hands and her mind active might help to keep at bay this awful, nagging sense of loss that threatened to engulf her every time she let her thoughts drift to what—or who—she might have left behind when she lost her memory.
Chapter 8
Highlands of Scotland
1295
“They only blocked her powers, you say? And yer sure of that? Sure that her powers were no’ stripped from her when they exiled her in time? I canna begin to imagine why they would take such an enormous risk.”
Patrick stared from one woman to the other in disbelief as they discussed the fate of his Syrie as if it were no more than simple gossip about some crofter’s wife in the next town. Orabilis seemed almost giddy as she asked her questions, while Editha nodded her response, her eyes wide.
“Perhaps they dinna ken the danger they created for themselves. I’ve no doubt as to the truth of it. The Goddess herself witnessed their—”
“What is wrong with the two of you?” Patrick interrupted when he could stand it no longer. “The Magic be damned! Whether she has powers or no’ is of no concern to me. It’s Syrie herself who’s important, no’ her Faerie abilities. From what yer saying, she’s lost somewhere in the future, with no’ even her own memories to guide her. We have to do something to bring her home right now.”
“Be still with yer blether, Patrick,” Orabilis admonished, not even giving him the courtesy of her attention. “We are both well aware of the challenges facing Elesyria. But until we can get this right, until I can understand exactly what we are dealing with, we canna bring her home, aye? So summon yer patience, lad. Lock yer lips and allow us to do our work.”
She spoke to him as she had when he was no more than a boy demanding her attention. When he thought on it, it wouldn’t surprise him if she still considered him as such.
He growled his displeasure, not bothering to form the words. She was right, of course. No matter how powerful Orabilis might really be, not even she could afford to rush into an encounter with Faerie Magic without the armament of knowledge. He’d have to force himself to wait. At least now he could take solace in knowing that she intended to help, a fact she hadn’t shared before this very moment.
“That little twist changes everything,” Orabilis muttered, her forefinger tapping her upper lip thoughtfully as she stared up at the ceiling. “As I’m sure the Goddess realized when she sent word. Well then. It would appear there’s naught left to be done but to go to a source o
f power if we’re to follow her.”
“No!” Editha protested, the word expelled on a burst of air. “You ken it’s no’ safe for you to return to Wyddecol. Especially no’ now with the Council embroiled in a full-on grab for control.”
“Do I look the fool to you?” Orabilis asked, her laughter tinkling around the room. “No need to fash yerself over my considering such an unwise move, little one. No, the place I have in mind is in this world, but with an opening to the other. A place where the powers of Wyddecol leak through into the Mortal world.”
“The glen,” Editha whispered. “That’s where yer thinking of going, is it no’? You intend to take yer leave from there.”
“That is the only spot I can see someone using to begin a journey such as we discuss,” Orabilis said with a chuckle, turning her gaze toward Patrick.
He did his best to ignore the shivers prickling up his spine, fear for Syrie urging him on, stoking the fire of his anger yet again. Delays and more delays, it was what these people knew best.
“Why must we waste more time, traveling to yet another place? Yer supposed to be the one with the Magic to bring Syrie home. Why can you no’ just do it here and now?”
“Do it here and now?” Orabilis asked, her voice rising in pitch. “What is it you think I’m to do, lad? Toss some herbs into the fire and pull Elesyria from the rising smoke? You’ve no idea how difficult a task you’ve set for me, nor the price to be paid for accomplishing it. No’ even my powers are strong enough to simply undo what the High Council of Wyddecol has set in motion. I need to touch upon the Magic of Wyddecol itself to have any chance in fighting this battle.”
Why the Fae could never take the simple path baffled him. His father had always claimed they were a race more convoluted in their thinking than even the old gods of Asgard. It all seemed clear enough to him. But if she insisted that she needed to touch upon the power of Wyddecol, so be it. Simple enough.
Anywhere in Time (Magic of Time Book 2) Page 4
