by M. Garnet
Clearing her throat, Margo interrupted his work again. "This is not the United States as I remember it. What happened?"
Making some notes, he finally spoke. "Time changes everything."
Slowly rolling up the large sheet, she pushed it over onto his work papers.
"Dimensions also change. What dimension are we in now?"
Now she had his attention as he froze with his long fingers spread on the papers under the light. "I knew you pulled those two books. There are no dimensions. There are a couple of deluded men who made some money writing about untrue theories that they could not prove. They were laughed at by their contemporaries."
"So, I am back to being insane. I should return to my bed and cry?"
Rahm turned his back on her. "You should think about time."
Margo was almost back to her bedroom, going around the dark balcony when it hit her brain that he had really given her some more information in his strange manner. Time. He had said that she should be thinking about time.
Leaning on the banister of the balcony, she looked down at the dim light below the stairs. Did he mean that time was different? Time was the problem and time changed things? Leaning on the polished wooden banister, she used it to help her return to his office.
Waiting until she sat down, Margo didn't speak as she decided she might need to sit when she got his answers.
"Rahm, are you searching for unusual events in history on those documents?"
Even though he didn't look up and he only mumbled, it was an affirmative. Margo felt this was going to be a slow learning session. She realized that her cup had been picked up. Evidently, he didn't want willow tea spotting his floor. That thought led her to understand that her headache was gone. Well, imagine that natural products do work. Her head was clear, but her thoughts were mixed.
Thinking about her next question and the best way to ask it took her a while as she bit on her bottom lip. There was so much to know and so many questions to ask. If she asked anything in the wrong way, he would answer in some vague way, and she would have wasted some of his time. Time. Yes, that was the issue.
Okay, jump right in and waste the air. "Rahm, are you human."
At last, she got his undivided attention. He stopped and slowly closed the book he had been leafing through. He took a step backward and sat down in his own chair. Margo watched him slide down on his tailbone and spread his long legs out and apart in front of him under the big desk. He ended, leaning his head back on the chair, looking up at the ceiling lost in the darkness above.
Margo had just about decided he wasn't going to answer her question after waiting and tucking into her own chair when at last he began to speak in his low, hoarse voice.
"I was born on this world."
She waited for him to add more. At last, she felt she had to prompt him. "That doesn't answer my question. Pelicans and tigers are born on this world. What does a DNA test say about you?"
Rahm lifted his head, and she could see his eyes were now the deep blue of a far off sea. She could not resist the thought again of how beautiful he was and how unusual he was as a man. She thought of movie stars, but her reference was closer to male models that one never saw more than once or twice in a magazine ad for some expensive French items. She remembered the paintings from the Middle Ages and thought about fallen angels.
"I don't know what a DNA test would tell you, but if I wasn't careful, I could impregnate you." He raised a hand and seemed to take a moment to study it and then laid it back down on the arm of his chair.
"Okay, I get it. You work with the elements. How many years have you been doing this thing with the storms?"
"How old is this world that has supported life?"
Margo sighed. "You never answer a question with a straight reply. I still consider that I am close to being insane and I wonder if it is possible that you would prefer that I accept that condition. Just once, give me one clear answer. How old are you?"
There was enough silence in the room to hear the dust settle on the books. When he did speak, she wished he had not said anything. "I really don't know how old I am."
Margo's only response was to stand and scream. She pushed everything off his desk, making heavy books fall to the floor and scrolls sail through the air. She turned to run from this terrible person, but before she made it to the wide doorway, he had his arms around her. He drew her back to his chest, and he wrapped himself around her, to hold her tight to him.
Wanting to fight and resist, instead, Margo just laid her head back against his shoulder in acquiescence. His breath against her ear was delicious, but she didn't want delicious from him, she wanted answers that made sense.
"You are so important to me. I have not met anyone in such a long gathering of time that has let me feel alive. When you disappeared in the forest of Earth's count of year as sometime in nine hundred BC, I hurt deep inside. I came close to killing everyone in that forest."
There was a long pause as they stood in the door looking out at the dark balcony. Through her blurry amazement with him holding her against him, she saw movement as someone walked toward them.
Rahm didn't move and didn't release her. The moving shadow turned out to be the thin cook with a tray. The cook never even raised an eyebrow as she made her way around the two locked together.
"I brought lunch. I'll just set it down over on the usual table."
Margo couldn't move, and Rahm didn't, as the cook set her tray down and then turned and walked around them to leave the room. It was as if the cook saw the Master holding a female in this doorway all the time and just did not make a comment about the sight.
With her head back and closing her eyes, she spoke her thoughts aloud. "How can you hold me now and make love to me in such a real manner, but not help me remain sane? Who are you?"
"I am Rahm Maaker. My kind was the first of yours, your human race here on Earth.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The sun was glinting off her floor as Rahm took her into her bedroom. He finally released her at the edge of her bed.
"Stay here while I get our meal. We will talk in this room. I think you feel more comfortable here." Rahm turned and left her standing, facing the covers with her knees pressed against the edge of the bed.
Margo turned and sat down because she didn't want to fall to the floor. She wondered if he was more insane than she was or if there was a grain of truth in his words.
They ate quietly, across the table he had pulled over to the bed. Margo tasted nothing, as she put food in her mouth and swallowed. She wondered if they both were waiting for the other to speak first. The silence was too much for Margo.
"Rahm, if you had told me your strange statement in a normal living room in Tampa, Florida, I would have said you were off your rocker. But here we are, in a strange estate carved into the side of a mountain. When you take me to visit the moon, I will taste cheese."
Rahm sighed. "The moon is not cheese, and we don't travel there yet except for NASA's couple of trips."
"You can't travel into the future?"
Rahm pointed out the bright window. "Time is what has happened. What has happened can be changed. What is before us is not written. What is not written cannot be changed."
Sliding back onto her bed and taking a seat with her legs crossed she looked at him. "Have you always talked like you are trapped in a puzzle?"
She was sorry she had made a discouraging comment about his talking because she wanted him to continue. "Do you speak other languages besides English?"
His gem-colored eyes moved back to her, and he reached out to her to gently touch her cheek for only a second. "You are trying to understand me from your experience. You must expand your mind. I speak so many languages, some that are no longer of this time. Language is not our problem; understanding is the gap drawn between you and me."
There was the sound of thunder off in the distance. Margo glanced out the window and saw only sunshine and a clear blue sky.
"R
ahm, is that one of your storms?" She looked back to see Rahm leaving her room, moving at a speed that was surprising.
Shaking her head with some anger, she stretched out on the bed and stared up at the old-fashioned coved ceiling. Margo had to wonder how they kept the high walls so clean.
The cook did a soft rap on the open door. "Miss, may I take away the tray?"
"Of course. I think I will take a nap." She watched the cook close her door, and she closed her eyes, surprised that everything buzzing in her mind finally slipped away to allow her to fall asleep.
The sound of thunder woke her up, and she rolled over to still see sunshine reflected on the black and gold marble floor of her room.
Sitting up she felt stiff and decided she needed out of this room. Pulling on her boots, she grabbed her jacket and stopped just outside her door. His office doors were open, but the room was dark. The Master must be out. She went on down the stairs and headed out to the front door.
For the first time since coming to this house, she stopped at the doorstep and looked at the two large doors that seemed always to be open and pushed back against the outside stone walls. Running her hands over the closest one, she admired the deeply carved leaves and running trails of flowers and connected vines.
These doors were immense and thick and solid with the carving being done by the hands of an artist. The doors were always open because the long cover that protected the entry from any heavy storm. There was also the fact that anyone in this area was afraid of the Master and would never enter this manor with ideas of harming or taking anything from within the dark halls.
Hearing thunder again she stepped out on the gravel pathway, but still saw nothing but a clear blue sky. She turned to move up toward the cattle people and the quiet cows eating at the edge of nothing.
She was thinking about the confusing words said upstairs in the dark house and looking down at the small stones on the path. The thunder rumbling caused her to look up again, and she was surprised to see a tall man straddling the path ahead of her.
At first, she thought that Rahm was above her on the path. But there was something different about the figure. Margo slowed down in her movements as wind whipped her hair and she felt a chill run down her back.
Again she heard the far off sound of thunder. Behind her, she heard Rahm speak to her.
"Margo, go back to the house."
For once she could hear his voice above a whisper. She looked over her shoulder to see Rahm standing on the path about twenty feet behind her. She had just about decided his order was a good idea when she looked around to find the other man had moved close to her. She never heard any sound as he approached her, but he was within an arms’ reach.
"Hello Lovely. That is what I will call you. Rahm, you have a new toy and didn't let me know. I guess you don't intend to share."
"Margo, return to the house immediately."
The man in front of her held up his hands with a strange smile. "Do what the angry kingpin orders. I hate it when he brings down all that lightning. I will see you later when we all sit down to eat in that large dining room that no one uses."
Needing to get him out of her space she began to back up. He didn't move, letting her proceed away. At last, she saw Rahm's shadow beside her on the path.
She turned, but with her back to the man above them on the path, she heard him speak in a taunting manner.
"Lovely, perhaps you need help on this rocky path. I would be glad to take your hand and walk you back to the house."
Margo jerked back, as he was so close and she thought about what happened when Rahm took her hand. Rahm would instantly take her to someplace else. Could this man who resembled Rahm in a lot of ways, perform the same magic?
Rahm pushed her on down the path as he spoke, “Behave yourself, Tarm. What are you doing here?"
Turning she knew this was someone that Rahm knew, but the man frightened her. There was something that seemed evil about the man. He didn't have the distance and indifference of the world that flowed from Rahm.
From this man who looked similar to Rahm, there flowed a taunting haughtiness, as if he saw the world to play with and even destroy. His interest was not to change the world, but to bend it to suit his needs. These were two different people with two different views of the world.
Watching the strange men over her shoulder as she stumbled her way down the path, she felt queasiness in her stomach. It was like watching the Archangel Michael meeting the banished Angel Lucifer. These were two beautiful males, totally out of their realm with power they should not have and some need to perform deeds only they understood.
In the middle of this chaotic nightmare, Margo felt her mind being torn apart as she struggled to return to the manor and hide. Not even hesitating at the big door that she had admired such a short time ago, she ran down the hallway and up the stairs.
Not being able to lock her door she resorted to what she had done before. She slid the table over to let her know if someone tried to enter. Pulling out her backpack she found her gloves. She made up her mind she would never go anywhere without them again. This world was full of danger for a woman with bare hands. This world was dangerous for a woman.
Lying down on the bed, she wondered why Rahm had brought her here. She went over some of the words he had said to her. He had said to her: I can make you eat. I can make you do anything. I don't want to make you do things. I find it amazing to watch your freedom.
What did that mean? What did he find amazing about her freedom? She wasn't free; she was a prisoner in his world. She had tried to escape once in a forest and almost got raped.
The laws of nature don't apply to me. That was another of his statements and the reference that dimensions are foolish ideas but that she should think about time. Time. He must be moving back and forth in time. Now there was a thought that could blow a person's mind.
Wasn't it H. G. Wells who wrote about time travel? It seemed that you could accidently kill your grandfather and wipe out yourself. Margo choked as she sucked in air. That was it. One of those cartoon light bulbs turned on in her head.
Rahm Maaker, the Master Storm Tamer, was trying to change the world through changing something in time long ago. She had the answer to one question, yet the next one was bigger. What was he trying to change?
A light tap on her door interrupted her thoughts.
"Mistress, Master Coin requests you join him and his guest for dinner."
Taking a couple of breaths to make sure her voice was even, Margo answered, “I will be right down."
Grabbing her jacket, she stuffed her gloves in a pocket and stopped by the bathroom to wash her face. Staring at herself in the mirror she was surprised how bright her eyes were and how clear her face was in the reflection.
She opened a drawer and pulled out a brush and straightened her hair and tied it back into a tail at her neck. Enough. She was yelling at herself; maybe she should go back to the insane theory. Taking her jacket, she went down the stairs and turned into the dining room.
The long table was dressed for the first time since she had found herself in this dark house. The hanging chandelier was lit, but in a dim way reflecting in the silver forks and knives at each place setting.
There were beautiful serving bowls along the table with silver candelabra with tall unlit white candles. There were plates; one a ten inch and a small one on top at each place with at least three glasses of beautiful carved designs at each setting.
Margo had known about Steuben glassware, but she felt these might be older than that revered company. The cloth covering the table was made up of several layers of lace with white napkins waiting across the plates.
Her seat was obvious since Rahm was sitting at the end near the kitchen and Tarm was sitting at the end near where she entered. There was one empty setting in the middle of the table, so she was going to be halfway between the two men. Damn.
"Come in, Lovely. I am getting hungry, and Rahm insists we wait for you." Tarm
spoke without looking over his shoulder where she stood.
Okay, like Rahm, whose blue eyes were on her, Tarm had talents Margo wasn't comfortable about, such as hearing her move in the hallway behind him. She could be a coward and go back upstairs, or she could swallow her pride and fear and go sit in the high-backed chair at the side of the long dining table.
A boy, who sometimes helped in the kitchen, came out of the dark and held her chair, so now she was committed. He wanted to take her jacket but she jerked it to her arms and when Margo sat down she placed the jacket over an arm of the chair.
From the open door of the kitchen, the plump cook wheeled out a cart and went to Rahm first setting a low bowl of what Margo assumed was soup on the plates in front of him. Traveling up the other side of the table she repeated the process for Tarm and then made the circle to come to Marge to lay the low soup bowl in front of her. Without stopping and no comments, the cook was gone.
Tarm must be like Margo, hating silence. "I think we need more light." He pointed his forefinger, and a streak of flame shot out down the table, almost touching Rahm. It did touch the row of candles, and each one flickered and caught, giving light on the table.
Rahm had not moved or even fluttered an eyelash, but Margo jerked against the straight back of the chair. She was grateful for the strength of the tall back to hold up her shaking body. She quickly understood Tarm's message. Rahm's talent meant he controlled the element of storms or rain, so one of the elements that Tarm controlled was fire.
Margo decided the best step would be to cover up her reaction. Tarm was evil in the way a small spoiled boy was a bully. He was the type to taunt and tease and hurt small animals, all for response and backlash.
Looking up at a nearby candle she nodded. "Thank you." Then she picked up the outside soup spoon and took a full taste. As usual, the cook had done a good job. The thin tomato bisque was marvelous, but the tension at the table was enough to keep her from enjoying the flavor.
