The Restorer

by Sharon Hinck

  “When we got home from the park, I went up in the attic, and you were gone.” Standing, he straightened his tunic and paced a few steps. “I saw you had opened a portal.”

  I frowned in confusion. “But wasn’t the roof of the house gone? There was a storm. Lightning and wind and glass breaking.”

  “No.” His forehead wrinkled. “Everything was fine. Maybe it just felt like a storm when you went through. You didn’t have the stones lined up the right way, so it probably wasn’t a very smooth passage.”

  I’ve never taken criticism well from Mark, so I immediately geared up into defensive mode. “What do you mean I didn’t line the stones up right? I didn’t do anything with . . .” My voice trailed off as I realized what he had said.

  He walked over to a window and rested a hand along the frame, looking outside. His shoulders were tense.

  I could read his back as easily as his face. “Mark,” I said slowly, “how did you know about the portal? How did you know how to come through? Where to find me?”

  He kept looking out the window.

  He might want time to search for the best answer, but I didn’t have the patience for that. “Mark, talk to me. Please.”

  He cleared his throat. “It’s the portal I used when I left this world,” he said at last.

  I wanted to laugh, but I could only stare at him.

  He turned and looked at me, anxiety and apology blending on his face.

  “What?” I asked, nearly breathless with shock.

  He walked back to sit beside me and took my hand in his. “I’ve been here before, Susan. It’s where I grew up.”

  I snatched my hand away and pulled back, looking at him in horror. This was the man I had pledged my life to. I woke every morning to nestle in his arms and talk about our coming day. We had shared every part of our lives, every insecurity, every dream. And all along, he wasn’t who I thought he was. Together, we were raising four children. True to form, my mind veered off onto that important tangent.

  “Mark! Where are the kids? If you came here . . . Who’s taking care of them? And how did you explain when I disappeared for weeks?”

  “I took them over to your mom’s for the afternoon,” he said, as if he had arranged a movie date for us. He reached for my hand again but thought better of it and tried to calm me with his voice alone. “You’ve only been gone from the attic a few hours. And I’m taking you back now. Time works differently here. They’ll never know you were gone.”

  I ignored his last statement, still sorting out my feelings. “You lied to me. All these years, it’s been a lie. Who are you?”

  I had felt hurt when Kieran threatened to slit my throat. I had felt abandoned when Tristan let the Council guards drag me off to Lyric. But the betrayal I felt now was ten times worse. A hundred times worse. How ironic. All these weeks in this strange world, I had longed for Mark, knowing I could handle anything if only I could be with him. Now he was here, and my hurt and loneliness were sharper than any I had known before. The man sitting beside me was a stranger.

  Mark grabbed my shoulders before I could pull away. “No!” His normally calm voice was harsh with emotion. “Susan, nothing has been a lie. I promise you. I was in your world for two years before I met you. After I found you, I knew I would never come back. I made my choice.”

  “What were you doing in ‘my’ world?” I was amazed at how level my voice stayed; I was pressing all my feelings into a tight ball of mistrust and anger.

  “The eldest songkeeper sent me through the portal to keep me safe. It’s a long story. Susan, stop looking at me like that.”

  I wrenched myself away and stood up, looking for my pack. It was propped against the side of the room, and I rummaged in it, suiting up with my gauntlets, baldric, and sword.

  “What are you doing? Honey, calm down. It’s all right. I’m taking you home.”

  “I don’t even know who you are. And I can’t go back now.” I paused and looked up from my pack. “I’m grateful you got me away from Cameron. Did you kill him?”

  Mark stiffened in shock. “What are you talking about? I wouldn’t kill a councilmember.”

  “Then how did you get me away from him?” I demanded.

  “He said he was finished interviewing you and that you’d had a bad reaction to a drug patch and passed out.” Mark seemed genuinely bewildered. “I told him the rest of the Council should have been informed that you were in Lyric. He said he was about to let them know, but he had concerns about you because you weren’t very . . . rational.” I ground my teeth together, but let Mark finish talking. “I told him you were my wife, not a foreigner, and that he didn’t have any right to question you. He didn’t argue. Since you had fainted, I carried you to my rooms here.”

  “I didn’t faint.” I pulled on my gauntlets and tugged the ties with my teeth. “It was the drugs. They did something to my heart.”

  “Susan, you’re wrong.” Mark meant his words to be soothing, but his tone sounded belittling to me. “Cameron handles foreign security. He sometimes uses harmless drugs when he interviews people, but it’s nothing the Council hasn’t approved. I’m sure you misunderstood.”

  I was breathing hard now. “You know Cameron? And you didn’t kill him for what he did to me?” I adjusted the baldric across my shoulders, settling my sword at my hip.

  Mark looked alarmed as he watched me. “Susan, it’s all over now. I’m taking you home.”

  “He tortured me, Mark.” In spite of my best intentions, my voice broke as I remembered the misery Cameron had caused—the horror of being trapped and in the grip of physical pain that wouldn’t stop, the mental anguish of betraying my friends, the layers of suggestions the Rhusican woman had tried to plant in my mind. “He was working with a Rhusican.”

  Mark looked confused.

  We had a pattern in our marriage. A problem would arise, and I’d be the one to get upset. The issue could be Karen dating an angst-ridden musician, or Mark’s business threatening lay-offs, or Anne’s spat with a neighbor. Mark’s consistent approach of staying calm and detached would infuriate me and boost my level of emotion even higher. Often, when the crisis was past, I could appreciate the stability he brought to our relationship with his unruffled way of facing problems. Not this time.

  “What’s a Rhusican?” Mark walked toward me cautiously.

  I glared at him. “They poison people. They’re causing all kinds of damage to the People of the Verses. And Cameron is using that somehow. And he—” My words choked off.

  Mark moved toward me, and before I could resist, he gathered me in a hug. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that you were hurt. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you where I came from before. But it’s over now. It’s okay. I’m taking you back.”

  I wanted to rest in his arms and cry on his shoulder. The temptation was so strong that I planted my hands against his chest before I could give in to it. “I’m not going home.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s not safe for you here. You said it yourself. You’ve been hurt. We need to get you home.”

  “Silly?” My voice rose an octave. “Do you want to know why I reacted so badly to Cameron’s drugs? The Rhusican figured it out. It’s because I’m a Restorer.”

  Now it was Mark’s turn to pull back in horror. He didn’t let go of me, but he held me at arm’s length. His voice shook. “What?”

  “You heard me.” I wrenched out of his grip. “Fine. Everyone has to see proof.” I ran my finger sharply down the edge of the sword at my hip, and held it out to him. Blood dripped from the gash.

  Mark grabbed my hand in a reflex born of tending to four accident-prone children. He pulled a cloth from his pocket and held it against my finger.

  I tugged my hand away and held it up. The cut had disappeared.

  The evidence hit him like a right jab to the solar plexus. He sank down onto the couch, shak
ing his head. “No. It can’t be true.”

  A hint of a sneer stole into my answer. “I guess things aren’t always what they seem.”

  Mark flinched at the accusation in my words. The guilt and pain on his face cut through some of my anger. “Susan, please come with me. You don’t understand. We have to get you away from here.”

  “In every time of great need, a Restorer is sent to fight for the people and help the guardians. The Restorer is empowered with gifts to defeat our enemies and turn the people’s hearts back to the Verses,” I recited.

  His eyes widened for a moment, and then his shoulders slumped. “And do you know what happened to the last Restorer?” he asked with a tremor in his voice. His words dropped to a desperate whisper. “Susan, I can’t lose you too.” My normally steady and composed husband looked shaken to the core.

  I was still furious with him but felt myself in the odd position of wanting to comfort him at the same time. In our marriage seesaw, when he became increasingly placid, I grew more agitated. This time the balance tilted the other direction. I rarely saw him this upset, and my emotions dialed back in response. “Mark, if the One sent me here,” I said, slipping into the terminology of this world, “there has to be a reason.” I tasted bitterness, recognizing how little I believed that anymore. When I most needed strength and protection, it had come too late. But I couldn’t face that disillusionment now. It would paralyze me. “We have to figure out how to save Braide Wood. How long have you been here?”

  “A few days. I searched everywhere near the portal entrance outside Lyric, but no one had seen you.”

  “I didn’t arrive in Lyric. I was in Shamgar.”

  “Shamgar?” Mark squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t know the stones could work that way. So the alignment sent you to a different . . .” He interrupted himself as he noticed my stony glare and abandoned his analytical discussion. “Shamgar’s not a friendly place. How did you get out of there alive?”

  I pulled up a chair and sat down across from him. “Tristan found me.” I wondered where Tristan was now and what would happen to him when Cameron charged him with murdering a Rhusican “guest.”

  “Tristan of the Wood?” Mark’s eyes brightened with interest. “How is he? I was practically still a kid when I left, but we all looked up to him. He must be an old man by now.”

  “Only if you’re calling us old,” I said, confused.

  “Oh, I forgot. Time passes differently here. It takes getting used to. So how is he?”

  “He’s the head guardian of Braide Wood. His wife was poisoned, and when I met him . . .” I paused, not sure how much I wanted to share with Mark. I no longer trusted him, which tilted my whole universe off center. I changed the subject. “So you’ve been here a few days already?”

  His eyes saw too much. Sadness rested like a weight on his shoulders, but he focused on my question. “Yes. An old friend and mentor from the Rendor Council delegation gave me these rooms to use. I finally found people who had seen you. I heard you were in Braide Wood, but would soon come to Lyric at the invitation of the Council. So I waited here, but you didn’t come.”

  The conversation began to feel more natural. We were slipping into our comfortable habit of catching up on each other’s day. But disorientation still plagued me at seeing Mark in this world—realizing I never really knew him.

  He watched my face. “Susan, I couldn’t tell you about my past. But it doesn’t change anything. I love you. You’re my wife. Please don’t shut me out.”

  Maybe it was an insinuation of Rhusican anger in my subconscious. Maybe it was my hurt that God hadn’t spared me from horrible and senseless pain. Maybe it was the knowledge that the portal was all Mark’s fault. Whatever the reason, I refused to sink into the warm love he offered. I stiffened. “We’ll talk about it later. I can’t deal with what I’m feeling right now. There’s too much to do. Why are you dressed like that? Are you on the Council?”

  “I was when I left a few years ago—a few years for this world, twenty-two years for ours. I was only an apprentice for Rendor. They’ve restored my status, even though I didn’t plan to be here long.” His eyes traveled over me, hesitated on my sword, and then studied my face.

  I wondered what he saw. My weeks in this world had changed me.

  The corners of his eyes creased with concern. “You really mean to stay?”

  “Just until I know the children of Braide Wood are safe and the Council gets rid of the Rhusicans. I’m a Restorer, Mark. I have to help.”

  He lowered his head into his hands, and I could barely hear his next words. “So this is my punishment for deserting my people. I couldn’t leave you to come back here. And now I’ll lose you anyway.”

  Mark was never a pessimist. His fatalism now frightened me. “Mark, did every Restorer die in battle?”

  “Not all of them. But they were guardians. They were warriors. What chance will you have?”

  “Thanks so much for the encouragement.”

  Mark sighed and met my eyes. I could almost read the thoughts as they played across his face. I saw the moment he made his decision.

  “You need to do this.” It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. He reached out and took both my hands in his. “Will you let me help?”

  This was the Mark I knew. He could come home to find me in hysterics because the muffler fell off the car, the dishwasher flooded the floor, the kids had gotten poison ivy, and I was supposed to organize a church bake sale. Calmly, resolutely, he would step into the midst of chaos with those magic words, “How can I help?” Then he’d call the mechanic, help me mop the floor, run to the drugstore for calamine lotion, and convince me I’d survive the day.

  I felt a rush of warmth and nodded.

  “But I have one question for you,” he said. “Are you staying to help the People, or because you want to get back at Cameron for what he did to you?”

  “I want to save Braide Wood from Hazor. I want to stop the Rhusicans from poisoning anyone else.” And if in the process I could destroy Cameron, so much the better. But I kept that thought to myself.

  Mark’s eyes were bleak as he watched me, but he nodded. “You’d better fill me in on everything that’s happened these last few weeks. I’ve heard some things here in Lyric, but I’ve been out of touch for a long time.”

  We heard a discreet tap at the common room door.

  My heart began pounding, and my hand clenched on my sword’s grip.

  Mark jumped up. “Don’t worry. You’re safe here.” He nodded his head toward a door at the far side of the room. “Go get something to eat. I’ll take care of this, and then we can make our plans.”

  Glad to hurry out of the room, I poured myself some water from a stoneware pitcher as I stood in the small kitchen and worked to slow my breathing. While I drank and rummaged around for something to eat, I kept my hearing focused on Mark.

  “Councilmember Markkel?” a young woman’s voice asked.

  “Yes. Come in.”

  “The Council is calling a special session for the second day following the Feast. All councilmembers and clan representatives are requested to meet in the Lyric Hall at first light. Matters include Hazorite demands on Braide Wood, new problems on the Kahlarean border, a resolution to change our defense policy, and the murder of several visitors to our land.” The young voice rattled off the list of information, oblivious to content. She was clearly in a hurry to move on and carry her message to the next councilmember.

  Mark thanked the girl and closed the door behind her.

  I stepped back into the room, nibbling a piece of fruit. “When is the Feast day?” I asked.

  “You heard?” He raised his eyebrows. Then he sighed. “Of course you did.”

  “How much time do we have? When is the Feast day?”

  “Tomorrow. The Council will meet the second day after that. Tha
t gives us three days.”

  “I don’t suppose you could use your portal stones to make time slow down for a while?”

  It was a feeble attempt at humor, but Mark grinned. He walked over to me but stopped short of touching me, still uncertain of my mood. “Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. But I have a better idea. Come on.” He reached out his hand.

  I reminded myself that I was still furious with him and that I didn’t plan to forgive him anytime soon. We might need to work together right now to get through this crisis, but I wasn’t going to let myself lean on him. I couldn’t count on anyone but myself. With that thought resolved in my mind, I took his hand and let a small grin answer his. In spite of myself, a current of warmth moved from his hand and curled around my heart.

  Chapter

  20

  Mark kept hold of my hand as he grabbed our cloaks and hurried me out of his rooms, down a hallway, and out into the fresh air. The overcast sky was the particular shade of grey that indicated a few hours remained until nightfall.

  I dodged puddles leftover from the afternoon rain as I followed him. “Hey, slow down. Your legs are longer, so I have to travel two miles for every one of yours.”

  It was a long-standing argument. Mark grinned and shook his head, though he did slow down. “Distance isn’t relative.” He gave his standard answer.

  “But apparently time is. And I never really believed that before.” I slowed even more. The tall buildings on either side of us were unremarkable. I wanted to go back to the city entrance and see the magnificent gate and tunnel again.

  “Time has always been relative. Remember how long your ninth month of pregnancy always was? And how fast the baby years went? Time distorts.”

  “Maybe. But, Mark, if I’ve been here a couple weeks, with only an hour or so passing in our world, then hundreds of years should have passed here during the twenty years you were in ours. That can’t be right. You still know people here.”

  Mark shrugged. “The time distortion is fluid. Time passes more quickly in the world that you are in, than in the one where you aren’t. When I was home, time here passed slowly. While you were here, time in our world barely moved. That’s all I’ve been able to figure out so far.”