Time's Children

by D. B. Jackson

  Too late, Mara wondered if this was a mistake. She shrank from the demon’s gaze.

  “I need you to look out for others,” she said again, trying to sound firm. “I want to try Spanning while holding my chronofor. If I can’t do that, I probably can’t Walk back with my sextant either, and that would make all that we’ve discussed very difficult.”

  “How old were you when you got those?” Droë asked, still staring, a slender finger aimed at Mara’s breasts.

  “Would you watch for people, please?”

  The Tirribin turned, her gaze sweeping over the courtyard. “Please tell me.”

  Mara shrugged, though Droë no longer stared at her. “Thirteen, I think. Yes, about then.”

  “Did it… did it hurt?”

  “Not all the time, but sometimes, yes.”

  “Men like them. I’ve noticed that.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. This might have been the oddest conversation she’d ever had. “Yes, I’ve noticed it, too. I’m going to Span now. I’m just going over there.” She pointed to the far side of the courtyard: another archway. “Then I’ll Span back. It shouldn’t take long.”

  The Tirribin glanced her way, her gaze flicking over Mara’s body before meeting her eyes. “All right.” She scanned the courtyard again.

  Mara set her sextant to the proper distance – a single hash on the arc – and sighted through the gold and glass eyepiece. Clutching the chronofor in her other hand, she flipped the release on the sextant’s frame to activate it.

  The pull of the sextant wasn’t nearly as abrupt as the hook of the chronofor. After practicing with the time piece so often over the past ha’turn, the act of Spanning came easier than usual. Still, she felt as though she were soaring in the wake of a galloping horse. Color and light rushed past her with dizzying speed, and cool wind whipped over her skin, stinging like sand blown by a coastal gale.

  It lasted less than a fivecount. Then she stood on the other side of the courtyard, facing the stone wall of the palace. She turned, spotted Droë staring after her. The demon lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave. Mara waved back. She listened for soldiers, checked the courtyard and covered walkway. Convinced it was safe, she lifted the sextant again, set it for the Span back, and thumbed the release.

  Soon, she stood where she’d started, her skin prickling with the bite of the Spanning wind. She still held the chronofor in her free hand. She dressed hurriedly, feeling the demon’s eyes upon her.

  “It worked,” Droë said. A statement.

  “Yes. I can Span with a chronofor in my hand. I assume I can Walk while carrying my sextant.”

  “Which means you can search for him.”

  “That’s right.”

  “When will you go?”

  “Soon,” Mara said, the word coming out as a breathless whisper. “Very soon.”

  Chapter 22

  22nd Day of Sipar’s Settling, Year 633

  Tobias woke to a low growl that stopped his heart.

  A black mutt about the size of a small pony stood over him, teeth bared, spittle frothing and dripping from its retracted gums.

  Every muscle ached, pain pulsed in the wounds on his face and ear. The skin around the bruise on his jaw had tightened, and the stab wound in his back burned as if someone held a torch to his flesh. Just now, though, the dog was his greatest concern.

  “He’ll bite if I tell ‘im to.” A man’s voice.

  Sofya stirred, her eyes fluttering, her thumb straying to her mouth.

  “I don’t doubt it,” Tobias said, his voice raw.

  “Who are you? What business you got here?”

  Tobias tore his gaze from the mutt and studied the man. He was tall, lean, with dark eyes and an aspect made severe by his scowl. His breeches and shirt were worn, stained, and he wore his long red and silver hair tied back in a plait. He held a hoe in his hands the way he might a battle axe.

  “No business,” Tobias said.

  Sofya woke all the way, glanced at the dog, and let out a shriek. She grabbed at Tobias with both hands, scrabbling at his gut with her tiny feet, trying to climb him, or hide behind him, or scale the chimney to get away from the beast.

  “Who’s that?” the man asked. “She yours?” He eased closer. “That blood on her? And on you?”

  “We just… We needed a place to sleep. That’s all. We’ll leave now. You’ll have no trouble from us again. I swear.”

  “How do I know you ain’t already made trouble elsewhere? How do I know you didn’t steal that wee thing from her mother?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “I’m just to believe–”

  He broke off, canted his head. Tobias heard it, too. A great many footsteps approaching on the road, and the jangle of belts and weapons.

  The man considered Tobias and Sofya again. Tobias stared back, praying to the God and Goddess that the man would understand, and wouldn’t ask many questions.

  “Stay back here,” the man said, in a voice that barely carried. “Keep out of sight, don’t make a sound. Crow, you’re with me.”

  He walked toward the lane, and the mutt bounded after, ears and tail held high.

  Muscles protesting, Tobias climbed to his feet, cradling Sofya, who had calmed down with the dog’s departure. She felt damp and smelled rank. It hadn’t even occurred to him until now, but he needed to change her swaddling, would need to do that several times each day. He had never done anything of the sort, and just yesterday he had known her as… He didn’t allow his mind to go there. She was his responsibility now, and he would do what needed doing. First, though, he would keep her alive.

  Keeping his back flat to the house, he eased away from the road, moving slowly so as to make no sound. The yard, like those abutting it, was enclosed by a tall wooden fence, and parceled into neat plots. Nothing grew in them at present, but Tobias was certain that come the warmer turns, they would be green with sprouting vegetables. More to his concern right now, he saw no way out of the yard save the path the man and his dog had followed.

  Sofya clung to his shirt and sucked her thumb. He hoped she would remain silent.

  The man spoke with whoever had come – soldiers, he was sure. Tobias couldn’t make out any of what they said.

  Moments later he heard more footsteps, approaching rather than retreating. He held his breath. The door to the house opened. A woman’s voice from within. They had come to search these structures.

  For us.

  Which meant…

  “Sure,” he heard the old man say, in a voice seemingly intended to carry. “You’re welcome to search back here, too. Just a yard, like any other within the city walls. Nothing much. Barely enough room for the wife’s potatoes and carrots.”

  Frantic, Tobias sought a place to hide. He had maybe a tencount, if he was lucky.

  A wheelbarrow leaned against the back of the house beside a pile of dried grass and clumped dirt. He hurried to it, clinging to the princess. With a glance toward the corner of the house, he crawled under the wheelbarrow and pulled dirt and grass toward the edges until little daylight entered the space from that side. He wanted to do the same with the other side, but he had no time.

  The old man’s legs came into view, along with the black breeches of four others.

  “See?” the old man said. “Nothin’ here but dirt and sweat.”

  “What’s in that shed?” A woman’s voice, hard-edged.

  “Tools and such.”

  One of the soldiers strode to the far end of the yard. A door creaked open.

  “You seen anyone unusual today? Or maybe last night?”

  “You mean aside from Sheraigh soldiers?”

  A pause. “Yes, aside from us. Anyone else?”

  “Can’t say as I have.”

  The old man remained where he was – where Tobias could see him. The soldiers walked around the yard. One of them went to the other side of the wheelbarrow, but didn’t bother looking beneath it.

  Sofya patted her hand on Tob
ias’s shirt, but her other thumb remained in her mouth, keeping her quiet. Boots paced and scraped on the floors within the house.

  Tobias’s breathing sounded ragged and loud to his own ears, and his pulse pounded. When a large brown spider scuttled over his arm, he nearly shouted in surprise and alarm.

  At last, the soldiers left the yard, as did the old man. Inside, the soldiers moved back toward the front of the house. Tobias brushed the spider away, but remained where he was.

  A short time later, the man returned.

  “They’re gone. You can come out.”

  Tobias crawled out the other side. The arm that clutched Sofya had started to cramp.

  The dog growled at them again, and Sofya whimpered. The man eyed Tobias, saying nothing. Eventually, he glanced at Sofya and wrinkled his nose. “Better bring her in. Can’t have her sitting in her mess all day.”

  He and the dog walked away, leaving Tobias to follow.

  “What’s your name?” the man asked, tossing the question over his shoulder in a low voice.

  “Tobias.”

  “And the wee one?”

  He was sure the man noticed his hesitation. “Nava.”

  Reaching the front corner of the house, the man halted and motioned for Tobias to do the same. He peered out at the road, then nodded. “They’re at the next house. Best we wait a spirecount or two.” He faced Tobias. “I’m Jivv. Wife’s inside. She’s Elinor.” He pointed at the mutt. “This is Crow. Crow don’t like strangers much, but if we let you in the house, he’ll calm down. Think you’re family. Crow ain’t too smart.”

  He peeked around the corner again, glanced back at Tobias with a tight smile.

  As they waited, Tobias ran a hand over his face, feeling the rough growth of a beard on his chin and cheeks. He touched his neck, traced the line of his jaw with his fingertips. It had never occurred to him to shave. He didn’t know how and couldn’t remember watching someone else do it. He had lived with boys his own age – the age he ought to be – almost all his life.

  He had a dagger but didn’t know if its edge was sharp enough to remove the beard without scraping away his skin. He’d heard of men cutting themselves with a dull blade. He wondered if he ought to shave at all. A beard might disguise him. The idea bothered him; he had never imagined himself bearded.

  He thought it strange, after all he had been through in the past day, that a trifle – whiskers on his chin – should bring home to him all that had changed, all he had lost. He would never be a boy again. Even if he could find a chronofor, save Mearlan, and return the princess to her family, he would only move himself further from his own youth.

  Not that he knew where to find a chronofor, or how he could get away from Hayncalde alive. The life of which he had dreamed was gone. He would never see Mara again. If he was to keep Sofya alive, he might never know the simple pleasures of having a home, a family, lifelong friends. He had given up too much, for nothing, it seemed.

  “Come along then,” Jivv said, snapping him out of his dark musings. “They’ve moved on.”

  Tobias nodded, adjusted his hold on the princess. Casting a wary eye down the street, he followed Jivv and the dog through a battered old door into the house. His hand strayed back to his jaw. Inside, the structure was modest, to say the least. The door opened onto a cramped common room with a cooking hearth, two chairs, and a small table. A crude stone shrine stood by the hearth, the figure at its center with its arms raised and head bowed. Sipar worshippers.

  Beyond the common room, through a low gap in the wall, lay a second room that might have been their sleeping quarters.

  A woman stood near the fire, her clothes and features so similar to Jivv’s, Tobias would have assumed she was his sister had the man not referred to her as his wife. She was tall, willowy, with dark, widely spaced eyes, and white hair, still tinged red in places and tied back under a dingy white cloth. She had straightened when the door opened and now regarded Tobias and Sofya with something akin to disapproval.

  “Who are they?”

  “Don’t know yet. But the wee one needs changing, and I’d guess both of them need food.”

  “You got money?” the woman asked Tobias.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Thought as much. There’s blood on you both. Care to explain that?”

  “He will in a bit,” Jivv said. “Let’s you and me find some swaddling first.”

  He didn’t wait for her reply, but walked into the back room, Crow following. The woman considered Tobias and Sofya for another instant and then entered the other chamber. Tobias knew why they had gone back there. Already he heard snatches of whispered conversation.

  “…Castle last night… Sheraigh… dangerous for us… who that baby is…”

  They remained in the room for some time. Eventually he heard one of them rummage through a wardrobe or chest of drawers. When they emerged again, Elinor carried a bundle of white cloth and Jivv bore a water pitcher.

  “We’ll get her changed,” the woman said. “Then we’ll clean you both up.”

  Tobias wanted to ask if he could watch her change Sofya’s swaddling, but he feared the question would reveal too much. He simply nodded.

  “We have some bread, and a morsel of cheese. Some goat’s milk for the wee one.”

  Elinor shot Jivv an angry look, but the man stared back, all but challenging her to deny them food. She turned away before he did, crossed to Tobias, and took Sofya from his arms.

  The princess fussed, but Elinor sang in a rich alto and soon had the babe laughing and cooing.

  “They’ll be all right,” Jivv said. “Elinor ain’t had a babe to play with in more years than either of us care to count.” He indicated a chair near the hearth. “You sit. I’ll gather a bit of food.”

  Tobias lowered himself into the chair, wincing at the pain in his back. As Jivv predicted, now that they had accepted Tobias into their home, Crow seemed content to do the same. He sat at Tobias’s feet, his tail thumping the wooden floor.

  “That a knife wound in your back?”

  Tobias hesitated.

  “Bar fight?”

  Again, he faltered.

  Elinor stepped out of the back room, still singing. Sofya had tears on her cheeks, but she smiled. It took Tobias a moment to realize she no longer had blood on her chin and temple. He stood and approached them, scrutinizing Sofya’s face. Of her two wounds, the gash on her chin appeared to be the more serious. It was deeper, longer, and the skin around it was bruised and swollen.

  “You need to be careful with a babe,” Elinor said, her voice hard. “I don’t know how they do things in the northern isles, but you can’t treat them like toys, or pets.”

  Tobias drew himself up to his full height. Tall as she was, he stood half a hand taller. “I’m not responsible for those wounds,” he said. “I’ve risked my life to keep her safe. Just as I would have in the north.”

  He held out his arms for the girl. He could see that Elinor didn’t want to give Sofya back to him, but he didn’t relent. At length, she placed the girl in his arms. Sofya grasped his shirt and slid her thumb into her mouth. Whatever Elinor might think, the princess gave every indication of being pleased to be back with him. Tobias took some satisfaction in the woman’s frown.

  Jivv crossed to the table, bearing the promised bread and cheese.

  “Have a seat,” he said, motioning Tobias to the table again and setting the food in front of him. “Wine?”

  Tobias sat once more. “Please.”

  Tobias started to break off small hunks of bread and cheese for the princess.

  “She can’t eat that!” Elinor said, looming over him. “Not just that anyway.”

  She poured a bit of goat’s milk into a bowl and set it before him, slopping some onto the table. “Soak the bread in this and give it to her. You can add in a piece of cheese or two once she’s had some.”

  He said nothing. His ignorance weighed on him. But he crumbled the bread into smaller pieces, wet the
m in the milk, and handed them to Sofya one at a time. She tried to grab the larger pieces from him, but he kept them beyond her reach and made sure she didn’t bolt down too much.

  Jivv placed a cup of watered wine on the table and sat opposite Tobias.

  “You were in the castle,” Jivv said.

  Tobias stared back at him, without nodding or shaking his head.

  “The sovereign’s dead? Imprisoned?”

  He said nothing.

  “Those soldiers were from Sheraigh. I went to work this morning at dawn, down at the wharves, and there were Sheraigh men there, too. They sent me home. The port’s closed, they said. Even the marketplace is shut down. Word in the streets is that the new regional governor will be living here before long. This is no secret you’re keeping.”

  “Someone killed the sovereign,” Tobias said at last. “And his family. Mearlan’s line is broken.”

  “You got away.”

  “Yes,” Tobias said. He took a bite of bread and cheese for himself.

  “How did you manage that?” Elinor asked, an accusation in the question.

  “I was fortunate. I received help–”

  “Who from?”

  “I won’t tell you that. I was shown a way out of the castle, one I wouldn’t have found otherwise. The rest I did on my own.”

  “And this one?” She jutted her chin at Sofya. “How did you…?”

  Her eyes went wide, and Tobias looked back at her, knowing that she had worked it out for herself. Yes, indeed he did have a secret, a huge one, as fragile as life itself, as vast as the future. She took a step back, frightened of him, of them.

  “You have to leave,” she whispered.

  “I know. I will.”

  “Now!” Emphatic, but in a voice robbed of breath.

  “Soon.”

  “I don’t understand,” Jivv said, regarding them both.

  Elinor and Tobias kept their gazes on each other, strangers newly bound by something profound and deadly.

  “This is the sovereign princess,” Tobias said, trying to make the words sound ordinary. He hadn’t wanted to tell them, but there was no sense now in denying it. “I got her out before they could kill her. I… I need to keep her safe.”