The Art of Stealing Time t-2

by Katie MacAlister

  “Faa?” She draped a linen cloth over the top of the basket, her brows pulled together. “Mags, do you remember that woman we met right after the war?”

  “Which war?” my mother asked, giving me a pat on the hand before she set about filling muffin cups with her pink sleeping batter.

  “The one with the nuclear bombs.”

  “World War Two?” I asked.

  “That’s it. We met a woman Traveller whose husband had been killed. She was very distraught, and one of her daughters-in-law had come to us seeking something to ease her pain. There was nothing we could do, of course, because there is no magic but love to heal a broken heart, but her name was Faa. I wonder if she could be related.”

  “I have no idea. While we’re on the subject of Gregory—”

  “Oh, mercy, look at the time, Alice!” Mom said, hurrying over to a line of baskets that had already been packed. She shoved two of them at me, picked up three herself, and nudged me toward the door. “Mrs. Vanilla, you stay here where you’re comfy. We won’t be long, and then we’ll get you a nice cup of tea and take you for your walk, all right? Gwen, dear, take this. We’re going to be late, and Lady Holly is most acerbic when that happens. You can tell us about your young man once we’ve given her the day’s potions.”

  “Er . . .” I held back when they bustled out of the tent, not wanting to risk seeing Holly in case she had heard that I was working for Aaron. There was also a chance that Death’s minion might be lurking about. I peeked out of the tent, but didn’t see anyone aside from the usual collection of dogs wandering around, begging for food, playing, sleeping, and generally just lounging and watching all the people moving to and fro. No one resembled the woman Gregory had described.

  “Don’t dawdle, Gwen!” Mom Two called before disappearing into the large tent next door.

  I swore under my breath, sent a little prayer to the lord and lady that I wasn’t about to step into a trap, and followed them into the big tent.

  “You remember our daughter, Gwenhwyfar, don’t you?” Mom was saying to the gaunt, leather-wearing Holly. She shot a quick disinterested look my way, then continued pulling out items from one of the baskets. She raised her voice to say, “Lord Ethan, have you met our daughter, Gwen?”

  Mom sidled over to me and whispered, “He’s a bit odd, dear. He has an illegal alien hand.”

  A man walked toward us from the far end of the massive tent, which, like my mothers’ accommodations, had floor-to-ceiling silk hangings that blocked out sections requiring privacy. He wore an odd leather harness that strapped his alien hand to his belly, the hand encased in a red glove.

  “We’ve met,” I said, politely smiling at him. “Good morning. How’s Diego?”

  Ethan glanced at his hand, frowning when the fingers twitched. “No, you may not fondle her breast. Stop it. No, stop that, too. It’s rude, and there are ladies present.”

  No one said anything. My mothers both attended to unpacking the baskets. Holly rolled her eyes and picked up a potion, unstoppering it to take a sniff. Ethan waited until his hand stopped making obscene gestures, then addressed me. “He is a bit angry this morning. He did not have a solid night’s sleep because some idiot woman kept charging into my tent and demanding to know where two mortals were. I know you.”

  “We met a few days ago,” I said, wanting to change the subject quickly. I needed time to warn my moms about the two hit men and Death’s agent. “You loaned me your mother’s sword.”

  Holly glanced up at that, skewering him with a look. “You what?”

  “Ah, yes, that’s right. The Nightingale. You’re one of my soldiers. Holly, which head shot do you favor? I think this one makes me look too serious, but it highlights my cheekbones superbly, don’t you agree?” He held out a couple of large photographs.

  “You gave this woman the Nightingale?” Holly’s frown grew when she turned it on me, taking in the sword belted around my waist. She ignored the photos, gesturing toward me. “Don’t you think that was a bit unwise, Ethan?”

  “If I thought it was unwise, I wouldn’t have given it to her,” he said quite reasonably. “What do you think, warrior?”

  I considered the pictures he showed me. “I like the cheekbones one.”

  “You have good taste.” He tossed the pictures onto a massive mahogany table that sat smack-dab in the center of the tent. “Now then, who are these ladies?”

  Holly, who had been watching me with suspicious, narrowed eyes, stopped that in order to give him a long-suffering look. “They are the witches I told you about two days ago, Ethan. The ones who are making magic for us to use to defeat Aaron.”

  “Ah, yes, that’s right. I remember now. You will make an excellent addition to a future chapter,” he told my moms.

  They beamed at him.

  “I want to get to the bottom of you giving away valuable swords—” Holly started to say, but didn’t finish the sentence. At that moment there was a brief struggle at the door, and two large men entered, blocking out all of the morning light.

  “There now!” the biggest of them said, catching sight of me. “I thought I might find you hereabouts.”

  “Hello, Irv,” I said wearily, one hand easing the hilt of the sword out of its scabbard. “I thought you were being held by Aaron’s guards?”

  “Aye, and that we were, but Frankie here, he got an idea.” He looked proudly at his friend, who responded with a deprecatory gesture and a modest expression.

  “I know I shouldn’t ask,” I told the room in general. “And yet I’m unable to keep from doing so. What idea was that?”

  “Frankie thought we ought to use some of the magic them witches give us.”

  “Oh, no, moms, tell me you didn’t . . .”

  “That’s right, I did think that, and so we did, and as soon as them soldiers of that other boss got a whiff of the happy juice that we got from those two, they was laughing so hard, they couldn’t stop us if they wanted to. We took care of them while they was rolling around laughing, and then ups and walked right out of the tent they was holding us in.”

  “You sure do know your business, all right,” Irv told my mom. She looked pleased with the compliment until she caught my eye.

  “Threefold law, Mom,” I told her sternly.

  She donned an aggrieved expression. “I don’t know why you cast that at our heads, Gwenny. We are always accountable for our actions and have done no one any harm.”

  “Including giving potions to two hit men?” I pointed to the men with my sword. “The potion you gave these two has resulted in the deaths of who knows how many innocent guards. That is doing harm.”

  “We did not give them any potion,” Mom Two said indignantly while my mother snorted to herself. “They took it while we weren’t looking. Didn’t you?”

  “Liberated it,” Frankie said, scratching his belly. “Boss likes us to call it liberating rather than stealing.”

  “Here, this lady’s your mum?” Irv asked, nodding toward my mothers.

  “They both are, yes.” I turned to Ethan. “I don’t suppose you’d like to lock these two men up? I can assure you that they are murderous villains and should not be allowed to remain free.”

  “Oy!” Frankie said, looking oddly hurt. “None of that, now.”

  “These men are working for me,” Holly said, looking up from where she had been writing in a small notebook. She’d been so quiet that for a few minutes I’d forgotten she was in the tent with us.

  “Then you share the blame for the death of Aaron’s guards.”

  She seemed immune to my cold stare, but my mothers weren’t. They moved together for solidarity, both their faces wary.

  “I am responsible for many deaths. A few of that devil’s men are nothing to me. Ethan, I must go have that meeting I mentioned with the guards and warriors. I’ve heard a foul rumor that some of them aren’t fighting as they ought, and clearly I need to lesson a little motivation into them.” She gave me a look that I met with one of abso
lute innocence. “I will meet you after lunch to discuss the new weaponry.”

  “Eh?” Ethan continued to poke at his laptop with one finger.

  She shook her head and marched off, her long hair swinging like black and green silk daggers behind her.

  “She’s so intense,” Mom told Mom Two.

  “She’d be much better for having a cup of dandelion tea each morning,” Mom Two agreed.

  “Oooh, I’d kill for a cuppa right about now,” Irv said.

  Frankie laughed and elbowed him.

  “What?” Irv asked.

  “You’d kill for a cuppa.”

  “So? I haven’t had any tea this morning.”

  “No, you’d kill for a cuppa.” Frankie elbowed him again.

  It took Irv a minute to see the irony of it.

  “Aha ha ha. That’s right, I would,” he allowed with a chuckle.

  “I do not think killing people is funny.” I whipped the sword through the air so that it sang. Both men watched, their merriment fading. “Especially innocent people.”

  “What innocent people?” Irv looked at Frankie. Frankie looked at Irv.

  “The guards you said you killed in order to escape. Aaron’s men.”

  “Who says we orfed those blokes?”

  “You did.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes. You said you took care of the guards while they were incapacitated with my mothers’ laughing potion.”

  He waggled his hand in the air while Frankie said, “There’s take care of, and then there’s take care of, if you see what I mean. Now, I’m not saying we didn’t tie them up, but Irv here, he pointed out that since this is heaven and all, the folks here was already dead, so there’s no use in trying to kill them when they can’t die again.”

  “That’s right,” Irv agreed. “It’s been our experience that once you’re dead, you won’t be coming back to life any time soon.”

  I shot a potent look at my mother when she opened her mouth to correct the two mortal men’s false assumption. “I’m glad to hear you’ve given up your propensity to violence. There’s no reason to go about killing anyone—or rather, trying to—when a simple conversation will clear things up.”

  “What conversation would that be?” Irv asked, looking confused.

  “The one that stops you from killing innocent people in Anwyn.”

  “Do you know what the daft hen is talking about?” Irv asked Frankie out of the side of his mouth.

  “Not a clue.”

  “I think we’d best wrap this up as soon as can be. I’m thinking she’s not quite all there.”

  “I’m totally all here!” I protested, throwing grammar to the wind.

  “You may be, or you may not be, but either way, we was sent to bring you back with us,” Frankie reminded me. “Boss said he prefers you alive, but if we wasn’t able to do that, he said we could just bring your head back with us and you could be a lesson to those what would cross him.”

  I was feeling a bit more confident now. Not only did I have my spiffy sword, but the two men weren’t likely to hurt anyone in Anwyn due to their belief that everyone here was deceased. I saw a chance to get rid of them once and for all, and decided boldness would pay off in this case. Accordingly, I strolled around them, gesturing with my sword as I spoke. “I hate to break this to you, but you’re wasting your time. I have no intention of leaving Anwyn to speak with your boss.”

  “You said you wanted to earlier.”

  “True,” I told Frankie. “But I’ve since changed my mind. You can feel free to tell him that I’m armed and I resisted all attempts to subdue me. Thanks! Bye-bye.”

  I strolled over to my mothers, whistling a carefree little tune that didn’t at all reflect my inner turmoil.

  “Ha ha ha.”

  I spun around at the laughter. The two men were nudging each other and nodding toward me. “Daft hen thinks anyone would believe we couldn’t subdue her,” Irv said.

  “That’s a good one, that is,” Frankie told me. “You may be daft, but you’ve a wicked sense of humor.”

  “Look,” I said, my hands on my hips, my sword still clutched firmly. “I’ve just about had it with you guys. I’m not leaving Anwyn, all right? So you can just buzz off before I lose my temper.”

  “And what’ll you do then?” Irv asked, giving me an indulgent smile that just made me irritable. Dammit, it was like they didn’t take me seriously as a threat to their well-being.

  “You don’t want to know. Now bugger off.”

  “Gwen!” both mothers said in unison. “Language, dear,” Mom finished.

  “I can’t believe you kiss your mother with that sort of a mouth, I really can’t,” Frankie said with unbearable self-righteousness.

  “It’s the modern generation,” Irv agreed. “They have no sense of what’s right and what’s not right.”

  “Are you totally unaware of the irony of that statement?” I asked. “You are hit men!”

  “So?”

  I let it go. I just didn’t have the energy to point out the obvious.

  “Know what I think?” Frankie asked Irv.

  “She’s going to run off again?”

  “I’m not going to run away.” My voice was sharp with irritation, but I felt it was justified. “You, however, are leaving. Ethan, you’re the head honcho around here—tell these guys to leave.”

  “I cannot believe someone had the nerve to give my book only three stars! The last volume was all about how I dealt with having a famous mother. It was filled with celebrity insider information! Three stars? It’s ten stars’ worth of a book at least. Twenty stars. Three is just utterly ridiculous.” He looked up. “Who is this Mr. Amazon? I wish to have a word with him about the people who leave stars on his Web site.”

  “You really do live in your own little world, don’t you?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Does nothing register with you?”

  “Not really,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not really cut out for all of this, you see. Oh, there was a time when I fought every battle and bested every foe, but really, what’s there to look forward to once you’ve conquered all there is to conquer? That’s when I decided to begin writing my autobiography. In seventeen volumes. Who are you?”

  I was about to tell him—again—who I was when I realized he was looking at Irv and Frankie.

  “They’re hit men.” Surely even Ethan wouldn’t be uncaring if murderers were wandering around his camp.

  “Enforcers,” Irv corrected me.

  “I’m sure that someone as erudite and learned as you must see that having such uncouth mortals around your camp is not going to reflect well on you.” I pursed my lips and looked thoughtful, figuring that Ethan might be swayed by commercial concerns. “After all, people might get the wrong idea about books written by the sort of man who has hired thugs hanging around him. I certainly wouldn’t want to buy the book of such a man, no matter how interesting the material was.”

  “Hmm.” Ethan appeared to be considering the idea.

  “We have no quarrel with you, mate,” Irv told him and pointed to me. “It’s this one who we was told to bring back. And now here she is waving that sword in our faces and telling everyone that we killed a bunch of giddy guards when we didn’t. Trying to black our good name, she is.”

  “I’m sure that was just a misunderstanding,” Mom Two said, indignation rife in her voice. “Gwen would never cast an aspersion upon someone unless she felt it was just.”

  “That’s as may be.” Irv smiled at me. I was momentarily disconcerted by the sudden gesture. And that was my undoing, because while I was trying to figure out what he had to smile about, Frankie moved as fast as a snake, grabbing Mom Two in a hold that had her yelping.

  “You bastard!” I started toward him with my sword held high, but stopped at the sight of metal glinting in Frankie’s hand.

  “Alice!” Mom shrieked and would have lunged at Frankie if I hadn’t held her back.

  “Let me
handle this, Mom.” I took a deep breath. “Mom Two, are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she said, her dark eyes filled with fear. I hated Frankie at that moment, hated that he could make someone as happy and loving as my mother fearful of being harmed.

  “Let her go, Frankie,” someone said in a low, ugly voice that was filled with so much menace it made me shiver. I was momentarily startled to realize it came out of my mouth.

  “Boss said we was to come back with you, or your head. This isn’t you, but maybe he won’t mind so much when we tell him that the head we have belonged to your mum.”

  “Gwenny.” My mother plucked at my sleeve, her anguish as palpable as Mom Two’s fear. I stood on the balls of my feet, my gaze locked on Frankie’s knife, trying to think of how best to disarm the situation. If I rushed him, he’d likely sink his knife into her neck, and although she wouldn’t keel over from a wound like mortals would, she could be killed.

  “This appears to be a tricky situation,” Ethan commented, and rising, he strode over to where Frankie held Mom Two. “You there, whatever your name is, release my witch. Holly has much work for her to do and would be most unhappy if you were to disarrange those plans.”

  “This has nothing to do with you, mate,” Irv said, moving over to stand next to Frankie. “I’d advise you to stay out of it and let us handle it.”

  “Ethan,” I said, gently pushing my mother behind me, all the while never taking my eyes off that knife. “I bet Diego would like to come out to play.”

  “I doubt that. He’s testy today.”

  “Ethan.” The word was ground through my teeth in an attempt to get him to understand what I was suggesting. “Let Diego out.”

  “Look here, you,” Irv said, pointing at me. He and Frankie were close enough that if Ethan unleashed his alien hand, it might be enough of a distraction that I could rescue Mom Two. “I don’t know who this Diego bloke is when he’s at home, but he isn’t going to help you any. Frankie’s going to lose his patience in a minute if you don’t agree to come with us.”

  “Very well, but if he misbehaves, I’m holding you responsible.” Ethan unbuckled the strap holding his arm to his belly, sliding the leather slinglike structure off. Immediately his hand reached out and grabbed my left breast.