“But what is this thing for?” he asked.
She held up the small glass bauble. “After I’m done you’ll be put in a stasis box, possibly even one of the ones you made. It will be taken to where you will be needed and when it’s opened this device will enable us to send to receive word letting you know what is to be done,” she lied. The only word he would receive would be the signal that ended his life.
“But what do they want me to do?” asked Allred anxiously.
Tad was watching from one side of the room and he leaned over, “It will be easy. All you need to focus on is the fact that once you finish we will remove those tattoos. You’ll be free to do as you please then.”
Allred nodded and Abby put him to sleep, grateful to end the conversation. Once he was unconscious she blocked the nerves around the entry point, his bellybutton, and began guiding the glass sphere to its destination, a place deep within his chest, near the heart and lungs.
The placement was almost arbitrary, but it did have some practical benefits. The aythar was stronger there, which would speed the krytek up more quickly, and it would make the enchanted glass harder to spot, should someone manage to observe one of their subjects before they were activated. Abby also consoled herself that being near the heart it would probably kill the man faster and shorten his suffering.
She closed the opening as soon as the sphere was within and when she finished the only sign that she had done anything was a small drop of blood. Wiping that away she nodded at Tad, indicating he could take the man away.
“You alright, Abby?” asked her brother.
“No,” she admitted.
Tad patted her on the back, “That’s the twentieth one you’ve done today. Anyone would be tired. Another week at this rate, though, and we’ll be done.”
He was completely clueless and the look she gave him should have conveyed that. “He’s the twentieth one I’ve killed today. If it was just being tired I wouldn’t be this upset.”
Tad’s face changed, “I know it’s awful, but it isn’t you killing them Abby.”
“Have you always been this stupid?” she asked him bitterly. He started to reply but she held up her hand, “Never mind, just shut up. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m done for the day. If it makes you feel better tell the First that I’m tired. I’ll be in my room.”
She left.
Back in her room she stared at the wall, too numb to even cry. This had been her life for the past two weeks. Every evening she dreamed of making a stand, refusing to continue, but she knew that in the morning she would get up and do what Emma required.
Chapter 35
The field around Tyrion’s tree was awash with the late summer sun. It was one of the few times of year that the high pasture was truly warm, but it wouldn’t remain that way for long. Another month and the cold autumn wind would return and only a couple of months after that the first snow might come. Winter always came early in the hills.
But today was warm, and that was all that mattered to Kate and Lyralliantha as they walked toward the only large patch of shade, the area sheltered beneath his tree.
By the standards of those who lived in Colne, it was a large tree, over sixty-five feet in height already, but to Kate’s eyes now it looked small. In the deep forest the god-trees grew much larger, even the normal trees, oaks and elms that bordered it made this one look modest by comparison. Few trees grew this large in the hard soil of the hills.
“Where did this stream come from?” she asked. The trickle hardly deserved the name, rivulet would have been a better moniker.
“I haven’t been here before,” responded Lyra, “but I would guess that Brigid diverted a spring or something to help him grow, since the rain is sparse up here.”
There had been a spring on the other side of the hill, one that trickled down to the river, but Kate couldn’t imagine how one person could move such a thing. She had seen so many things that defied description, though, what was one more? “I wish we could have brought the babies,” she said at last, changing the subject.
Garlin and Layla were with Helen, who had been delighted to see her newest grandchildren. Despite having so many she had been denied the opportunity to see most of them until they were nearly grown, aside from Inara and Eldin, of course.
Thinking of those two made Kate worry again. They were never far from her thoughts, and a large part of her hope today regarded them. If they could convince Daniel to return, if he could return, then they could go back to Albamarl.
“We will be here for quite some time,” reminded Lyra. “And we won’t be able to care for them while we wait.”
“How many hours will it take?” asked Kate.
Lyralliantha’s lip curled into a half smile, “A better question would be, ‘how many days?’”
“That’s too long,” protested Kate.
“Do you not trust Helen with them?”
She shook her head, “No, it’s not that, but someone has to feed them.” Garlin and Layla were three months old, nowhere close to being ready to be weaned, and certainly not so suddenly.
Lyra frowned. There was a lot she still didn’t understand about raising children. The thought of food hadn’t occurred to her, she had just assumed that their grandmother would have some solution. “Perhaps you should do this then,” she suggested. “Once I help you reach the proper state I can return to assist Helen.”
“Can’t we take turns?” She glanced at Lyra’s somewhat smaller chest. Her friend had never been overly endowed and she doubted she could keep up with the demand of two infants. She also knew that if she didn’t feed them regularly her own supply would dry up.
“That will complicate things,” said Lyra, “but it is possible.”
In the end, they agreed to twelve hour shifts, after Kate insisted that full days were too long. Lyra really had no understanding of how infants, or her own body worked, but Kate convinced her it was necessary.
Lyralliantha produced a complex spellweave and constructed an odd shelter beside the tree. It looked something like an odd cocoon, open to the bark on one side, and open to the weather on the other, but as soon as Kate stepped into it she could tell that it somehow kept stray breezes from entering through the exterior opening. The interior was warm without being suffocating and it held two seats that would allow them to recline against the bark while still keeping them comfortable.
“Did you just think this up?” asked Kate.
“No,” said Lyra, “I have done this many times.” She gestured at one of the seats. “Sit. I will guide you into the proper state before I go.”
“I’m supposed to just sit here for twelve hours?”
“It’s a little like going to sleep. Your sense of time will change. It will seem like only minutes before I rouse you again to take your place.”
Kate did as she was told and then Lyra placed her hands on her temples before kissing her on the forehead. “Do not worry. I love you,” said the She’Har woman. Kate started to reply but the world faded, or perhaps it was just her eyes closing. She was enfolded in a warm darkness.
And then she felt him.
***
Daniel?
It was Kate’s voice. As always it warmed his heart, though he knew she was just a dream. Yes, my love? he responded.
You need to come back, she told him.
Usually she was more relaxed in his dream, content to relive the past, or occasionally to engage in an extended game of ‘what if’. He had few regrets about his current condition, and generally his dream actors followed suit. That would be unpleasant, he told her. The world can get on without me.
And then she vanished, replaced a moment later by Lyralliantha. Please return, she said.
I like it here, he answered, but she was gone.
Kate was back, You have two new children, Layla and Garlin.
A good choice of names, he noted.
Layla is dead, Lyralliantha told him.
This is just a dream, now you’re
just making things up.
Then Kate returned, looking sad, Emma is losing her mind. She’s threatening Lyra.
Lyra was there again, before he could even reply. The constant shifting was beginning to irritate him. Stop it, he ordered, this is too chaotic. He attempted to focus on her, to make her image remain.
This is no vision, Tyrion. I am here. Kate and I are taking turns, we have to feed…
She was gone again.
Our children need us, Daniel. They need you, added Kate.
***
Kate woke with Lyra looking down at her. “This isn’t working,” she said. “He still thinks we’re a dream.”
“He is still young,” said Lyralliantha. “Most elders spend several decades dreaming before they begin to think more actively. It takes even longer for them to learn to speed their thoughts.”
“Speed their thoughts?”
“Normally when we speak to them, it takes a long time,” said Lyra, “but in times of crisis the elders, the mature ones at least, can increase their subjective time to the point of being able to converse with us in our perceptual time frame. They dislike doing it, but it is possible.”
“How old is mature?” asked Kate.
“Several hundred years.”
Kate sighed, “The children will be grown before we rouse him.”
“We simply have to convince him,” said Lyra. “Once he understands our message, his response could be rapid.”
***
This is no dream, said Lyra. There is danger.
He ignored her.
Kate appeared, Emma plans to destroy everything.
As I taught her, he murmured.
Lyra returned, but before she spoke he felt something new. Fire. One of his limbs was burning. The world shifted, as the She’Har equivalent of a surge of adrenaline coursed through him. A bonfire had been built beside him and its flames were tall enough to reach his lower branches. Sending forth his will he quenched the blaze, and then he turned his attention to the tiny being that had been feeding the fire.
A woman, her aythar familiar, stood staring at the now defunct fire. He considered killing her, to prevent any further attempts. He examined her more closely first. Brigid had once threatened to set fire to him if he didn’t return, but this wasn’t her.
Is that Kate?
Lyra spoke, Of course it is. She is desperate. We need your…
She was gone, and Kate was back in his dream, Please wake up.
Did you try to set fire to me? he asked.
Yes she did, replied, Lyralliantha, replacing her.
I thought you were a memory.
Help me, Daniel, Kate begged.
She was really there. The knowledge produced a surge of feeling and he wanted to hold her, but she faded as he tried to put his mental arms around her. Now she was Lyra again.
I love you, he told her. It was true no matter which of them heard him.
Wake up, said Lyralliantha, kissing him.
I love you, he repeated, and then Kate bit him.
Wake up! she insisted.
Tyrion moved. It felt similar to standing and shrugging your shoulders, flexing the muscles after a long night in bed. He gathered his will and then he directed his thoughts outward. The sun wheeled across the sky above and the earth embraced his roots below. He remembered his days as a man and he let the vision fill him.
Opening his eyes, he saw her, reclining in a strange spellwoven shelter of some sort, her red hair falling chaotically around her as she lifted her head to look back at him.
Kate looked older, tired and worn. There were circles under her eyes and her once cute freckles had become a riot on cheeks that were now longer quite as firm. As she stood he could see that her chest was larger and it hung lower beneath her dress.
She looked like she had been through an ordeal, but she was still beautiful to him. Within her eyes he still saw the spark that had once made his heart jump, though it was almost hidden by her tired expression.
Kate could see him appraising her and she looked away. Daniel looked the same as ever, possibly younger. His once restored ear was gone again, replaced by the mangled remnant he had had in his twenties, but otherwise he looked fit and healthy, the very picture of vitality. Of course, his naked skin was still covered by a multitude of garish tattoos. As she looked back she saw that Lyra was approaching them, walking up the gentle incline.
“Say something,” Kate challenged.
He tilted his head, and finally, after a long pause, he replied, “I have lost the habit.”
“Why did you leave me, leave us?” she asked.
Lyralliantha had stopped, standing some fifteen feet away, content to watch their reunion.
“I would not have survived,” he responded. “Afterward—after I had changed, it was peaceful. I thought the world would be better without me.”
Kate looked up at him, her eyes watering, “Selfish ass.”
“I love you,” he told her.
Watching them, Lyra felt a new emotion. She was overjoyed by his change, and she was happy, and yet, beneath it all, she felt something dark. As Tyrion and Kate looked at one another she felt something pass between them, something stronger than she had ever had, a bond that she would never fully be a part of. Is this jealousy? She pushed it aside.
Stepping forward, Lyra spoke, “Would you like to meet your children?”
Chapter 36
It was very late before most of them fell asleep, but Tyrion was wide awake.
He sat in his mother’s rocker in front of the modest hearth, holding Layla. Alan was the only other person still awake, sitting nearby in his own chair with Garlin in his arms.
The two men sat quietly, rocking a little, now and then, and enjoying the silence as they stared into the flames.
His mother had been the first to bed, exhausted by the shock of his return she had gone into a frenzy of cooking and talking, but her old body was no longer able to sustain such energies for very long. Kate had followed her not long after and Lyra had been next.
His return had been a cause for excitement, and everyone had been determined to fill his attention and his ears with all the news, with everything he had missed. It should have worn him out, but he still wasn’t tired. Perhaps his time as a tree had counted for sleep.
Only his father had remained relatively subdued. Alan had given him a brief hug and then had seemed content merely to listen to the women talk as they attempted to describe every detail of the past months.
Tyrion and his father hadn’t been close in many years, not since he had returned and taken his nearly grown children from Colne. Alan had taken to drinking at the time and his last major confession had been to tell Tyrion that he wished he had never been born.
The emptiness still hung between them, cold and dry.
He didn’t hate his father, or resent him. If anything he thought his father’s words had been more than justified. In the grand scheme of things he had been a colossal disappointment as a son, as a human being.
“I didn’t mean it.”
The words fell into the silence. Strange and unexpected, they came from Alan.
“Yeah you did,” said Tyrion. “And you were right.”
“I still shouldn’t have said it.”
“You were drunk.”
“Doesn’t excuse it,” said Alan. “Sober or drunk, I meant it—then. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect since.”
“And now?”
Alan didn’t look at him, “You’re still the boy I raised and loved, whatever else you’ve become. You did some things I can’t forgive, but everyone walks their own path. I can’t judge you from the life I’ve lived.”
Tyrion swallowed, trying to clear the lump that had risen in his throat, “Dad…”
“You still scare the shit out of me,” interrupted his father.
“That’s probably wise,” said Tyrion, “but I would never hurt you, or mom.”
“I’m not worried about that, son,” s
aid Alan, clarifying. “I’m too old to worry about myself. It’s the young ones I fear for.” He shifted his arms slightly, lifting Garlin to emphasize his point.
“I wouldn’t hurt them either.”
Alan glanced at him, his eyes catching the firelight, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Tyrion looked down, letting his vision focus on Layla. His father was right, he couldn’t even promise that. They sat in silence a while longer, though it was somehow more comfortable than before.
Eventually, Alan spoke again, “Ever gotten to hold a little one like this before?”
“Just Inara,” said Tyrion. “And only for a few months, before I was forced to…”
“…become a tree?” finished his father.
“Yeah.”
“You’ve given me more grandchildren than any old man has a right to expect,” said Alan. “It’s good to finally be able to hold one.”
You got to raise one, thought Tyrion, thinking of Haley, but he held his tongue. Bringing up his dead daughter wouldn’t improve the conversation. “Brigid stayed with you for a while, recently,” he said instead.
Alan chuffed, “That girl’s weirder than you, and scarier too, maybe.”
“True.”
Another quarter of an hour passed before his father spoke again, “What’s it like, having two wives?”
The question caught him entirely off guard. “They aren’t really both my wives, Lyra calls me her ki…”
“Don’t talk around it, just tell me, son. I’m genuinely curious,” said Alan.
“I didn’t set out to wind up in this situation,” said Tyrion, “but it isn’t as strange as you might think.”
“How do you decide who…,” Alan let the question trail away.
“Mostly they decide that,” answered Tyrion. “I suspect they think of me like a dog. They figure out between them who has to feed and water it from day to day.”
Alan gave out a small laugh, “You are a chore. No question about it.”
Tyrion appreciated the remark, then he stared down at Layla once more, fascinated anew as he watched her breathing.
“They change you, don’t they?” said Alan. “One minute you’re just you, the next you realize you have someone that depends on you for everything. Changes your priorities. As it should, I suppose.”
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