Seasons Turning

by Donaya Haymond

  Gwen smiled and pulled Radcliff away from Kira to give him a deep kiss. When she broke contact she said, “My knight in full health.”

  There was a good deal of excited babbling from Radcliff, quieter but still full-brimmed happiness from Gwen, and a steady current of anxiety from Kira. Goodwife Ash was sworn to secrecy about all of it.

  They started to walk away, into the path winding through the riverside woods. It was a lovely day, low humidity, just enough clouds to keep the temperature from being scorching. The scent of last night’s rain still freshened the world. It was lucky they could reach Kira’s home on foot from there. The kayak was not large enough to fit them all.

  “Show us to you home, little Summer,” Radcliffe said with a grin, clapping her on the back.

  “Why are you both wearing brass goggles, warm clothes, and scarves?”

  “Because we came by a beautiful, a beautiful balloon,” Radcliff sang.

  Gwen squeezed his hand. “We landed the hot-air balloon in a field a few minutes’ walk from here. I’m taking you to your realm. Radcliff is going to guard your mother.”

  “Why can’t mother go with me?”

  “It would take too much time for both of you to get packed and ready to leave, make arrangements for the protection of the house, explain the situation to all your social group, and so on. The balloon flies better with two passengers, as well.”

  Radcliff added, “Also because you’re going through enough doubt and uncomfortable new power as it is without a parent breathing down your neck. I was an adolescent once. Can’t be having you dear old mother hampering your movements, eh?”

  “Then why does she need guarding?”

  With the attitude of someone with a heavy load on her shoulders, Gwen had to explain some of the additional consequences of Kira’s actions. She told Kira she had created an imbalance of the Seasons by making three of them female, and how this rendered them all mortal just like any human. Worse, the promised power of being a Season would tempt a lot of men. Any men. It didn’t matter the shape of his body as long as he was a man in his heart.

  Gwen must have had more information about the portals opening between the Seven States and Next Door, but maybe she thought it’d be overwhelming. Kira silently took in all the information she received. She remained silent as they used stepping stones to cross a stream. Her house was in view by the time she said, “At least I can see if my sister is still about in the world.”

  ****

  The little wooden girl decided she needed a name. The first word that came to mind was “Twig”. It would do for the time being.

  The room Twig was in had no people. She knew about people. They were bigger than her. She knew about Seasons. She had been made by either Spring or Summer’s craft. Only those two had power over plant life.

  The room was also made of wood. The residents had rubbed the small, barred paper windows with animal fat to let in some daylight. She heard the hum of a generator, which must have powered the one bulb dangling from a knotted cord of string and wire.

  She sat on a table with three chairs, her legs dangling over the edge. One chair rough-hewn, the second more polished, and the third looked like one you could buy in a shop.

  Perhaps if Twig stayed put, her creator would return, and maybe help her figure out what to do now. On the other hand, Twig also had an immense craving for a few handfuls of soil.

  She dropped herself off the table and said, “Ow,” at the impact. She could apparently feel pain. She would have to avoid that in the future.

  She heard water rushing nearby. She hoped there was a way to get to solid ground, as the dirt under a river is difficult to reach, and even if she could float she might be carried far away.

  The door presented difficulties. It was latched shut and the latch was too high for her to reach. After pondering the problem, Twig trotted to a chair and pulled it towards the door. The chair was heavy when compared to her strength and she had to pause frequently for breath. She eventually managed to clamber onto it and lift the latch, straining her wooden muscles as far as they would go.

  Ah! Steps led down to a pair of tethered kayaks, but also a little swaying rope-and-plank bridge that would take her to a riverbank rich with delicious loam. Twig crossed it carefully, afraid of falling between planks and getting stuck. She managed to reach the other side without incident.

  Twig didn’t bother with any sort of dignity or decorum. She dug her hands into the dirt and scooped up big wads of it, stuffing it in her mouth and letting crumbs trickle out the sides of her lips. Earthworms just added flavor.

  A raccoon sneaked up behind her and sniffed at her, curious. Its eyes were bright and masked, its thumbed paws poised to grab her. She screamed out of instinct and ran away from it, not looking where she was going. She nearly tripped on a stone but kept running. She felt alone and vulnerable out here and wished she had quelled her hunger and stayed in the house.

  “The good news is that I’m safe,” she said to herself in tall grass a while later and some distance away, having realized the raccoon was no longer behind her. “The bad news is I have no idea where I am and how to get back to my creator.”

  That’s when someone scooped her up and examined her. He was an elderly man in a battered top hat, fingerless gloves, torn trousers, and a black vest. His beard had dandelion fluff caught in it. A wad of tobacco was in his cheek, staining his teeth and tongue yellow-brown. His voice cracked twice in a single sentence, while still bright and cheerful. “We-e-ell, isn’t that a sight for tedious-made eyes?”

  ****

  After a stop by a jeweler netted Jared a few thousand dollars, he took Lynne to an Indian restaurant, since that would lend itself better to her vegan diet. By the Ganges was a relaxed place, with soft zither music and only twelve tables. Mom used to like it for her birthday. Plus, Jared wasn’t sure how Lady Spring’s customs would conflict with local manners, so going somewhere formal seemed like tempting fate.

  He sipped at his yogurty lassi as she tasted mango juice with interest. “So…tell me about yourself?”

  “Will people think I’m crazy if they overhear?”

  “They’ll probably think you’re an actress describing a part in a theater production. You have the looks for it.” Jared unwrapped his napkin – cleverly folded into the shape of a lotus flower - and spread it on his lap. “If I were to say similar things they would think I was describing a character I made up for gaming purposes, but oh well.”

  “You’re not bad-looking, aesthetically speaking,” Lynne said. “You’re short and mousy, but you also look good-natured, and pleasantly dark. You’re even darker than me.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks. Is your lover dark? Do you value that in your realm?”

  “She’s quite pale, bless her, but Amber’s beautiful in her own way.” She dabbed her lips on the tablecloth, not noticing her own napkin. “All right. I was born to a human mother and a Fae father. Faerie is a protectorate of Spring.”

  “Remind me what that is? I’m sure I learned that word somewhere.”

  Lynne raised an eyebrow back at him. “It’s a state that is controlled and protected by another state. Amber prefers using the term ‘unincorporated territory’. Faerie manages its own affairs, as it did in its empire days, but depend on us for certain resources and peacekeeping.”

  He wished he knew more about statecraft. “I guess them being part of Spring makes sense. I’ve heard the weather in Faerie is generally nice, except for the rain.”

  “Yes. It was probably a Commuter or Dreamer who spread the word.”

  Jared tore a segment of flat garlic naan bread off the larger piece and popped it into his mouth. “What’s the difference, exactly?

  “A Commuter is someone who can travel between realms in the flesh. A Dreamer can only do it in the spirit, while asleep. There are both types of people born on either side of the walls. We know about the existence of Dreamers only because they tend to confirm reports made by Commute
rs, and they are often related to one another.”

  Jared became excited, his questions spilling out as he gestured rapidly.

  “So they’re like phenotypes? The dimension-crossing gene is incompletely dominant? A Dreamer is heterozygous for the dimension-crossing gene, and a Commuter is homozygous? If a Dreamer and another Dreamer got together they could maybe produce a child who is a Commuter? That is so sweet!”

  Lynne stared at him. Then she replied, so quickly he thought it was surely a lie, “Right. I understand you.”

  Jared blushed and scratched his head. “Sorry. I can get carried away. Everything’s all so new and interesting. I didn’t think anything could make me feel better so soon.”

  “Would you like to tell me about your mother?”

  His face fell and his gaze dropped to his lap. “Let’s hear about you first,” he said quietly.

  “If you wish. The half-Fae age more slowly than humans, though they do age, as indeed do the Fae themselves – who of course age more slowly still, over the centuries. I was sixty-three, but look the way I do now when the then-ruling Spring went insane. She sustained a severe injury. It did not kill her, but it made her act like a paranoid schi-za- I mean shiz-a…”

  “Schizophrenic.”

  “Right. Amber taught me the word. Hyzenthlay was her name. The Spring at the time, I mean.”

  Jared held up an index finger. “Paranoid schizophrenia does not equal evil, you know.” He hated unfair stereotypes, having been the victim of them so often himself growing up, and even in his career.

  “Of course not, but would you want a paranoid schizophrenic to have superpowers and be in charge of a country?”

  He put the finger back down. “Point taken.”

  Lynne ran her fingers through her frizzy dark hair as she spoke. “Hyzenthlay imprisoned Commuters in the mistaken belief that they were a first wave of invasion from Next Door. She demanded tributes of shrunken heads, which she ground into a powder and inhaled like snuff, supposedly to make her wise. She stripped naked and ran through the streets, beating a gong in the middle of the night. She personally killed anyone who suggested she should step down by administering thousands of paper cuts over several days. She sewed eagles and horses together in an effort to make hippogriffs. In short, her rule was intolerable.

  “With the blessing of the Queen of Faerie, Mab, I killed her. I won’t say how, because should the imbalance be rectified that will be my one weakness again, and though I doubt you mean me harm, I still don’t like to say it aloud. Because she had become a despot through madness, not malice, I killed her quickly and painlessly, and she was given an honorable cremation.

  “Amber was a prisoner of Hyzenthlay. I freed her when I took power. Amber had been through terrible tragedy not long before she went through a portal by accident and was falsely imprisoned as a spy.” Lynne sighed, looking down at the tableware. “She’d lost a lover and the use of her legs in the same violent attack. I don’t know how she bore it so bravely. How she still bears it so bravely. How could I refuse her my hospitality?”

  “She sounds like a very strong person,” Jared said.

  Lynne took another drink of mango juice, her somber expression slowly turning into a smile. “During her stay as a guest she discovered she is telekinetic while in the Seven States. Commuters sometimes learn such things about themselves. Telekinesis a rare gift even among natives, though. I said her power could be of great use, and she could stay as long as she liked to develop it. It took about four days before I was certain I wanted this woman to live there with me. When she consented, I sent my Commuters with her to fetch her things while she tidied her affairs. She is brilliant and compassionate, and has been my second-in-command ever since.”

  ****

  “Amber wouldn’t have sex with me. Will you?”

  His head still full of cobwebs from dreaming, Ezekiel sat up with a gasp. “Who’s there?”

  He saw a match strike and light a candle. It was the inscrutable, distant, and dangerously gorgeous Rain. She was naked, and in the flickering light her eyes glinted blue. “I went to Amber with the suggestion that since we were both attractive ladies with complementary sexual orientations and I’d confirmed that Lynne wouldn’t be against it, why not spend the night together?”

  “Ah.”

  Rain sat on the side of his bed, petting the crest of one of her wings. “Amber turned away my advances with a well-reasoned argument, when you take human emotions into account. She suggested that I expend my energies on someone else. Like you. You are single, correct?”

  “Yes, my Lady…”

  “You’re also reasonably easy on the eyes. You’re interested?”

  “Um, yes, my Lady…”

  “Do you have any form of contraceptive protection on hand?”

  “Amber instituted a condom distribution plan, so I have some, my Lady…”

  “Do you mind if the girl is on top? The wings have to be free.”

  “That’s fine…”

  She tilted her head and inspected him more closely. “Not only do you sleep naked, but you are obviously keen on the idea.”

  He tried to subtly bunch his bedclothes to reduce his embarrassment. “That…that I am…”

  “You don’t mind that I don’t love you and never will?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact, I think I could deal with that, at least for a single night.”

  “Okay.” Then she swooped down on him, pressing her lips to his. She thrust her tongue deep inside his mouth as if she was trying to swallow his soul.

  He inhaled sharply, kicking away the blankets so they could be skin to skin. Gripping the back of her neck, he pulled her closer, and used his other hand to explore.

  Her nails scored crescent marks on his chest. She hummed, her eyes closed as her mouth moved along his body, leaving kisses, licks, and deep purple bruises behind. She was more like a force of nature rather than a person, engulfing him with warm flesh and feathers that tickled and made him sneeze.

  When he sneezed she laughed and moved her hand down to tease him. She stroked and made as if to clasp, only to dance her fingers along his thighs instead. “You haven’t had any for a while, have you?”

  “No, my Lady…”

  “Maybe I should slow down so you don’t finish too quickly?” She slid up again and bit his shoulder.

  He yelped. “Please, my Lady, please keep going, please.”

  “How much do you want it?” This time her right hand did close, but she moved torturously slowly.

  “Very much, my Lady, please, please, please.”

  “I could use my mouth and it would feel even better. I’m not sure if I feel like it, though.”

  “Oh please, yes…”

  “I’m going to start, but I can’t talk when I’m doing that, so you can’t talk either, okay? You can’t make a sound. The moment you make a sound, I’ll stop and leave. Still want to play? Nod yes.”

  He nodded, digging his fingers through her thick black hair, flowing around him in waves scented like the morning after a storm. No human woman had ever made him feel so incidental to her own pleasure yet so overwhelmed with her energy and focus.

  Rain stopped, not at all when he would have chosen her to. She sat up and grinned.“My turn. I’ll be sure to give plenty of feedback.”

  “Yes, my Lady.”

  “Less talk, Zeke. More action.”

  Various acts and two hours later, Ezekiel concluded this was the real reason the Fae were so dangerous.

  ****

  Centralia, the Temperate Zone, is the largest city in the Seven States. It’s almost as big as San Francisco.

  The much smaller population in this dimension has given rise to the theory that humans originated Next Door. Some believe the Seven States were all originally part of Faerie. This would mean humans lacking Commuter ancestors descend from ancients who slipped through before the walls solidified. Many cultures of Next Door have myths about a time before reality was a fixed thing,
when weirdness was accepted and magic commonplace.

  Mab of Faerie could easily clarify these questions. Few dare ask. The Faerie Queen keeps her truths heavily guarded with wiles, lies, and deep, dark dungeon cells.

  Nonetheless, Centralia’s success stems partially from its high proportion of Commuters, some of whom are based in Centralia and others that visit from their homes in Next Door. It has no heavy industry of its own. The Commuter market is bustling with things from exotic cities: Mumbai, Johannesburg, Knoxville, Sao Paolo, Munich, Lijiang, Canberra, Hong Kong, Bandar Seri Begawan, Timbuktu, Leeds, and many more. One of them is also named Centralia, but it is a deserted town built on an unfortunate coal mine. It’s been on fire for decades. All of these places’ proximity to Centralia has nothing to do with their distance from one another.

  Next Door is one side of the walls between the worlds. On the other side lie the Seven States: Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring, Faerie, the Joint Republics of Monsoon and Drought (JRMD), and the Temperate Zone. Since one can only transfer as much as will fit through a portal to the Seven States dimension, the imports need to be small or easily dis- and re- assembled. Also, Centralia’s government is weak and funding for public projects is nearly non-existent. What taxes are collected go towards the police and the fire departments. Enough citizens agree that if you privatized those the corruption would be horrific. This means all technology must require little to no change in infrastructure.

  All toilets are compost toilets, because the sewage system failed completely sometime in 1875. Now they just focus on not killing all the fish in the rivers through sheer filth.

  They have cellular phones, but no land lines.

  They have steam-powered generators that provide electricity for a fee, one per municipality, but no television broadcasts.

  There are a few internet cafes that are built on fault lines between Centralia and urbanized Next Door cities. No personal computers.

  There are motorcycles, motor scooters, mopeds, rickshaws, and many, many bicycles. There are no automobiles except for a few dozen two-passenger models which are greeted with excitement whenever they are spotted. Local fuel supplies would not support heavy car traffic.