Time's Children

by D. B. Jackson

  He lunged for the lad, paws slamming into the boy’s back and knocking him face first to the ground. Crow let out another snarl and tore at the collar of the lad’s overshirt.

  “Get ‘im off me!”

  The boy tucked himself into a tight ball, his hands wrapped around the back of his neck.

  “Get ‘im off!” he said again.

  Tobias slowed, walking the last few paces to where he lay. He was panting, soaked in sweat.

  “Answers first,” he said. “What were you doing?”

  “Nothin’!”

  “It wasn’t nothing. You were crouched by the door. Why?”

  “I was… I was lookin’ for somethin’. Thought I lost it there.”

  “Bite his throat, Crow.”

  “No!”

  The boy flailed and kicked, his shoulders and neck still hunched. For Crow’s part, now that he had the lad on the ground, he had lost interest.

  “One last time. What were you doing by the house?”

  “Listenin’!”

  As Tobias had feared.

  “For what?”

  “What yous were sayin’. ’Bout getting out of Hayncalde, and Northislers, and taking some wee one with you.”

  Tobias shuddered. He didn’t think the lad noticed. “Why? Who are you doing this for?”

  At that, the boy stilled and looked up at him. He couldn’t have been much more than thirteen or fourteen years old. About my real age. His skin was smooth – he probably hadn’t shaved yet either. He was pale, his features overlarge, his eyes hazel or green; Tobias couldn’t tell in the twilight. Long, wheaten hair framed his face and hung into the mud and filth of the lane.

  From the lad’s expression, one might have thought Tobias had asked the most foolish question imaginable.

  “Who am I… I’m doing it for me. For my mum and da. Do you know what they’re offerin’?”

  “What who are offering?”

  Even in this light, Tobias saw the boy’s cheeks redden. He looked away, shame in his eyes.

  “The Sheraighs,” he said, his voice dropping. “I hate them. I swear I do. But they’ll pay two rounds ‘n five treys for information if’n it helps them get what they’re after.”

  “Do you know what they’re after?”

  He started to answer, but stopped himself, seeming to see Tobias for the first time. Northislers. Dark-skinned ones.

  “It doesn’ matter,” the lad said. “It’s like that man told you: that much coin is a king’s ransom. I was doin’ what I had to.”

  Hearing the boy repeat Jivv’s words convinced him. Or maybe it merely proved that he’d never had a choice.

  He squatted beside the lad. “What will you do now?” he asked, though there was nothing the boy could say that would change his mind.

  The boy swallowed, met his gaze, though only for an instant. “I’ll forget everythin’ I heard. I’ll– I’ll forget that I saw you or that mutt. I won’t tell a soul. I swear.” A weak smile crossed his lips. “I’m not even sure I could find that house again.”

  Tobias nodded. He didn’t think the lad saw him pull the dagger from his belt.

  “I don’t blame you,” he said. “I want you to know that. Two rounds, five is a lot. Anyone would be tempted.”

  The boy stared, appearing unsure of what Tobias expected him to say.

  “I’m sorry. I want you to know that, too.”

  He didn’t wait for a response. He clamped his left hand over the boy’s mouth, and with the right he drove the blade under the lad’s sternum and up into his heart.

  The boy’s back arched. His eyes widened, and he strained against Tobias’s grip, an agonized wail trapped in his chest and throat.

  Warm blood soaked his shirt and flowed over Tobias’s hand. After a tencount, the boy’s struggles eased and he slumped back to the ground. Still Tobias held him, silencing him with one hand, bleeding his life away with the other. Tears coursed down his own cheeks, but he could do nothing to stop them or wipe them away.

  The boy’s eyes found him. He looked frightened, confused, and terribly young. Tobias resisted the impulse to apologize again. He had killed before, in the castle on the night of Mearlan’s assassination, but those deaths had been different, easier to justify. This was murder; nothing less. He had no right to seek the lad’s forgiveness or understanding. He stared back, watching the boy’s gaze dim until no spark of life remained, and a last rattling breath fled the slight form.

  Tobias removed his hand from the boy’s mouth and brushed his eyes closed. He pulled the blade from the boy’s heart and wiped the blood on the rags the boy wore. He breathed hard, and his hands shook. Fresh tears ran down his cheeks, wound through his rough beard, and dripped onto the boy’s overshirt.

  Crow whined from nearby. Turning, Tobias realized the mutt wasn’t looking his way. The back of his neck prickled.

  “That was a waste of good years.”

  Tobias lurched to his feet and whirled, all in one convulsive motion.

  Two children stood before him, a girl and a boy. Only one creature he knew had eyes as pale as theirs, so Tobias had some idea of what they were. Where Droë’s irises were softest gray, this girl’s were green, the boy’s blue. Like the Tirribin he had known in Windhome, they possessed an unearthly beauty. Their black hair, hers to her shoulders, his short, shimmered like satin in the twilight. They were pallid where Droë had been dark, their faces identical in their perfection: delicate cheekbones, full lips, straight, aristocratic noses. They might have been brother and sister. Their clothes were as ragged as Droë’s – he wondered if this was an affectation common to Tirribin, or if something in their nature, their relationship to time, made it impossible for them to keep clothes looking new.

  “He looks scared,” the girl said. Hers was the voice he had heard. “Don’t you think he looks scared?” Her lips curved into a tight smile.

  The boy answered with a solemn nod.

  Voices echoed from a nearby lane, probably men and women hurrying to their homes before darkness enveloped the city. The byway remained empty save for Tobias and the demons. And the body. Soldiers would soon be abroad in the streets to enforce the Sheraigh curfew. He couldn’t be discovered here, with blood on his hand and the dead lad at his feet.

  “I have to leave,” he said, his voice deep and heavy after those of the Tirribin. “You should, too. You don’t belong here.”

  The girl stared at the boy’s body. “So young. He had a great many years, ripe ones. Feeding on him would have been better than ten riddles.”

  “I didn’t want to kill him,” Tobias said.

  She raised her gaze. “I know. I did. That’s what I meant before. A waste.”

  Tobias had no response, and no desire to speak riddles with time demons. “I have to go,” he said again.

  “He’s not very nice,” the girl said to the other Tirribin. “He’s too serious.”

  “He killed that boy. He should be serious.”

  “Does that mean we have to be, too?”

  “No, not us. But allow him to be. It’s only right.”

  “Well, fine. Still, I don’t like him very much.”

  “What do you want?” Tobias asked. “Why are you here?”

  “I think he’s rude,” the girl said, flipping her hair. “Like adults are. He’s not at all the way I imagined. Are you sure about him?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. He killed someone, Maeli. And you’re the one who’s not being very nice.”

  Her face fell, leaving her looking as grave as the boy. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just hoped he’d be more like us.”

  The girl reminded Tobias of Droë: childlike, temperamental, as inconstant as candle flame. As desperate as he was to get away, he also knew the dangers of angering time demons, and the potential value of befriending them.

  He gestured at the dead lad with a blood-stained hand. “I can’t be found here. I can’t risk being found at all. If I’ve been rude, that’s why.” He glanced in bo
th directions, checking the byway for Sheraigh blue. Crow shied from the Tirribin, but gave no indication that anyone was approaching.

  “What are your names?” Tobias asked

  “I’m Teelo,” the boy said. “My sister is Maeli.”

  “Were you looking for me?”

  The girl gave a frank stare. “You didn’t tell us your name.”

  “I’m Tobias. Were you?”

  “We’ll tell you,” Maeli said, smiling again. An open-mouthed smile, so Tobias could see her teeth: tiny, bone white, as sharp as a saw blade. “But you’ll have to pay us.”

  A flutter of wind stirred the demons’ hair and carried the faint stink of decay.

  “Droë once told me that your kind can sense years, that you know how old a person really is. That was how she knew I was a Walker.”

  “Who’s Droë?” Maeli asked.

  “Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”

  The girl shook her head. “I can guess enough from what you said. She’s a Tirribin. A friend. Perhaps someone you left behind when you came here.”

  Tobias didn’t respond.

  “Yes, we were looking for you,” Teelo said. “We saw you running through the streets, and we sensed your years. We wanted to meet you.”

  Maeli glared at her brother. “You didn’t make him pay. I’m hungry, and you didn’t make him pay.”

  “You’re always hungry.”

  “You need food?” Tobias asked.

  The girl covered her mouth with both hands and laughed, a tinkling, crystal sound, like water splashing in a fountain. Even the boy smiled.

  “Silly child. We feed on years. Would you care to give us a few?”

  “I’m not a–” Tobias stopped himself. Not a child? Didn’t he know better? Didn’t these two? He stepped closer. “So what Droë told me is true. You can tell.”

  “We see,” Teelo said. “That’s how we know. Your years are written on you. It doesn’t matter…” He waved a hand, the gesture encompassing Tobias’s appearance.

  “What do you want from me?”

  Maeli’s smile this time was too knowing for one so youthful, even if the appearance was an illusion. “We were curious. It’s not every day that a Walker comes from so far.”

  Teelo eyed her sidelong. Tobias hoped he might say more, perhaps hint at another reason for their being here. He said nothing.

  “I came for my sovereign,” Tobias said, scanning the lane once more.

  Maeli held a finger to her lips. “You should keep that to yourself.”

  He took another step. “Can you help me get back?”

  “It’s not so easy,” Teelo said. “Too much has changed. It’s…” He gestured again, this one vague, uncertain. “It’s all confused. This time, your time, other times. Going back as you mean it…” He opened his hands.

  “Still, we might be able to help,” Maeli said. “For a few years.”

  Tobias shuddered. “I’ve given enough. I have no years to spare.”

  Teelo looked like he might say something, but his eyes snapped away from Tobias, to something behind him. “We have to leave. Watch for us. Or find us near the wharves.”

  Tobias had no chance to respond. The children pivoted in unison and walked toward the mouth of the alley. He thought their pace unhurried, but they covered the distance faster than Tobias would have thought possible, blurring as they rounded the corner.

  He heard behind him the clip of boot heels on cobblestone. Soldiers, the next lane over. He and Crow ran in the same direction the Tirribin had gone. At the corner, Tobias checked the street. Seeing it empty he turned eastward, Crow at his heel, and made his way back to Jivv and Elinor’s house.

  Chapter 24

  23rd Day of Sipar’s Settling, Year 633

  Tobias and Crow had to follow a roundabout path to the house, twice ducking into byways to avoid companies of Sheraigh soldiers, and once following a street some distance out of their way to avoid a cluster of young men bearing torches and weapons in defiance of the curfew.

  The couple sat at the table when Tobias entered the house, Elinor with Sofya on her lap. Jivv stood as Tobias closed the door. Crow bounded to him, unaffected by their ordeal. Tobias faltered, his eyes flicking to Jivv’s. He crossed to the water bucket near the hearth and washed his hand.

  “That blood?” Jivv asked.

  He kept his back to them. “Yes.”

  Elinor swiveled in her chair. “The Two have mercy. What–”

  “Tell us what happened,” Jivv said, talking over her.

  Tobias could imagine the exchange of glares. He flicked the excess water off his hands and faced them. He was shaking again and he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

  “There was someone listening,” Jivv prompted.

  “A boy.” Tobias’s voice was unsteady. “He ran, and I followed. Crow caught him. We were in an alley, and… and I could tell that he had heard too much.” He broke off, knowing he didn’t need to say more.

  Jivv nodded. “You did right.”

  “He did right?” Elinor repeated.

  Jivv rounded on her. “Aye! He did what he had to do. He killed an informant who would have taken Sheraigh gold in exchange for the life of the wee one sitting on your lap. You think he did wrong?”

  She stared at him for a five-count before dropping her gaze to the princess and kissing the back of her head.

  “Where did you leave the body?” Jivv asked.

  “An alley some distance from here.”

  “No one saw you?”

  Tobias shook his head, saying nothing about the Tirribin. Maeli and Teelo weren’t likely to report him to the Sheraighs, and Jivv and Elinor probably wouldn’t know what to make of his encounter with the demons.

  He knew, though, that the boy’s murder only delayed the inevitable.

  “I have to leave,” he said. “Tonight. Now.”

  Elinor twisted around again, this time to look at him. “No. You can’t.”

  Sofya began to fuss. She reached for Tobias, opening and closing her chubby fists.

  He crossed to Elinor and held out his hands for the girl. The woman held her for another moment, but this only made Sofya fuss more. She let Tobias take her.

  “You can’t care for her, and you know it,” Elinor said.

  “And you can’t protect her. Unless you’re ready to give up your home and leave this place.” He eyed her, then shifted to include Jivv in the conversation. “Is that it? You’re looking to leave Hayncalde?”

  “You know we’re not,” Jivv said, sullen, eyes on his wife. Tobias wasn’t sure to which of them he was speaking.

  Elinor watched Sofya, clearly wanting to take her back. “Where will you go?”

  Tobias kissed Sofya’s brow and returned her. “I don’t know yet.” He retrieved the sack holding his possessions. Metal clanked within, drawing stares from Jivv and Elinor. Tobias peered into the sack, ignoring them. The apertures were still there, as was one of the pistols, a second dagger, and his clothes from the night of the assassination. The blood stains had faded with Elinor’s washing, but they hadn’t vanished entirely. He fished into the pocket of his old breeches; the broken chronofor was still there. “We’ll leave the city,” he finally said. “Maybe the isle as well. I need to get her as far from here as possible.”

  “You’ll never get past the gates,” Jivv said. “And even if you do, the wharves are still closed, and the highways beyond the city walls are no place for a wee one at night.”

  Tobias heard the truth in this, but he knew he couldn’t stay here. “The sanctuary, then,” he said. “Maybe they’ll shelter us, help us escape the city.”

  Jivv ticked his head to the side. “That might work.”

  Elinor scowled at both of them. “It might not. More likely it won’t. Are you willing to take that child into the lanes, with little chance of finding anything more than the point of a bayonet? You’re mad. Both of you,” she added, glowering at her husband.

  “I’ll go alon
e first,” Tobias said. “If I can get them to agree, I’ll take Sofya there tonight. If not, I’ll… I’ll think of something else.”

  “Even that seems a risk.”

  Tobias threw his hands wide. “Tell me what’s safe, and I’ll do it. Staying here is the greatest risk of all. They’re still searching for her – for us – and if they find us here they’ll kill you as well.”

  “You don’t have to worry about us,” Jivv said.

  “Of course I do. If it wasn’t for you, we’d be dead already. You’re the closest thing to family that she and I have.”

  He said it quickly, almost without thought, but Elinor’s expression thawed.

  “I should go instead,” Jivv said.

  Tobias shook his head. “No. I won’t let you take that risk.”

  “It’s not a risk. Supplicants from the city approach the sanctuary all the time.”

  “Not at night they don’t. Not with a curfew in place and soldiers patrolling the streets. If we could wait until tomorrow, then maybe, but after… what I did tonight, I’m afraid to wait even that long. It has to be now, and it has to be me.”

  “He’s right, Jivv,” Elinor said, gentling her tone. To Tobias she said, “Go then. We’ll take care of the wee one until you’re back. And we can send you off with food and swaddling if we have to.”

  Tobias pulled a pistol and powder bag from the sack.

  “Don’t take those,” Jivv said. “A blade, yes, but you’re liable to get yourself killed walking the streets with a pistol on your belt.”

  Tobias considered the weapon, and the warning. He returned the pistol and ammunition to the sack, which he left on his blankets, and crossed to the door. He hesitated there.

  Jivv joined him. “I’ll check the street for you.” He opened the door, peered into the night, and ducked back in. “It’s clear.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If you get a bad feeling, or you see too many soldiers, turn around and come back. We’ll find some other way.”

  “Right,” Tobias said, his throat tight. He took a breath, as if about to plunge into frigid waters, and slipped out of the house.