by Perrin Briar
Jera blinked, turned and looked around at her room. What had just happened? Everything in her room appeared to be in order. Nothing had changed. Was she experiencing déjà vu? She turned her head to the side and shrugged her shoulders. She walked to her wardrobe and reached up to put her hand on the handle.
It was a smaller change this time. She still had her hand on the wardrobe handle but her head was up and she was looking around at her room.
Jera’s hand flew off the handle like it were red hot. She backed away from the wardrobe. She sat on the corner of her bed. She felt sick to her stomach. After a moment, the sensation passed.
“Jera!” a voice said.
It came from outside.
Jera got to her feet and walked with steady steps toward the open windows that led out onto the balcony. The balcony itself was wide and semi-circular in shape with a waist-high concrete balustrade, and perched over the back garden. Climbing plants twisted their way around the marble columns with blind green fingers, prodding and probing any surface they came to. A trellis swamped with thick vines and large bulbous purple and blue flowers clung to the wall.
Jera peered over the edge and saw Richard in the backyard twenty feet below.
“Jera?” he said. “Can I come up?”
“I thought you were going to the market?” Jera said.
“Not until a little later. Can I come up?”
Jera thought for a moment.
“No,” she said. “I don’t think that would be for the best.”
“All right, I’ll keep shouting from here then. But just so you know, I’m pretty sure the neighbours can hear me.”
Jera looked to the side, where the neighbours were indeed sat, drinking refreshments under a parasol, watching the scene take place. The old bald man next door raised his glass in salutation.
“Just go to the market with Kali and Gregory,” Jera said to Richard.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, it is a question of honour.”
“What honour?”
“My being here has dishonoured you. I cannot return home until I have restored that honour.”
“You haven’t dishonoured me.”
“I fear I may have been too forthcoming with my affection for you at lunch.”
Jera glanced at the neighbours out the corner of her eye. She blushed.
“I’m not sure if now is the best time to be discussing it,” she said.
“I agree,” Richard said, “but discussing it with me down here and you up there definitely isn’t the best. I’m coming up!”
“No! Don’t!”
Richard gripped the trellis with his hands and shook it, testing its durability.
“Here I come!” he said.
“No!”
“I’ll be with you in no time,” he said, finding a good handhold. “I’m a good climber.”
“Use the stairs. They’re right over there.”
“Stairs are too easy. This is symbolic.”
“Symbolic of what? Being stupid?”
The vines wobbled and rustled as he made his way up.
“All right, fine,” Jera said. “But I hope you know that’s poison ivy you’re climbing.”
“Actually, no. I didn’t know that. Ow!”
Richard got a hand on the balustrade and then a leg. He pulled himself up and leaned against the balcony.
“Do you make it this hard for all men?” he said.
“There are no other men.”
“I’m the guinea pig.”
“You’ve been stung,” Jera said.
Richard’s exposed arms, neck and face were covered in small red spots.
“I’ll get the salve,” Jera said. “Come sit inside.”
Richard entered Jera’s bedroom and sat in an armchair beside the window. He peered around at the walls and furniture. Jera sat in the chair beside him, tipped the bottle of salve onto a rag and began dabbing at his face. Richard smiled.
“I climbed a trellis of poison ivy for you,” he said.
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t not ask me either.”
“I think I did. Why is it that whenever men do something idiotic they say it was in the name of honour? Is that how men convince themselves of their own honour these days? Making sure not to do what a woman says?”
“It does in some circles, I’m sure.”
Richard shut his eyes.
“That feels better already,” he said.
“Be quiet until I finish.”
There was a pause. Richard peered around at Jera’s room.
“You have a lot of books,” he said. “What kind of books do you like?”
“Stories.”
“What kind of stories?”
“Adventure stories.”
“Why those in particular?”
“They’re interesting.”
“I prefer non-fiction myself. It’s always worthwhile to improve oneself.”
They were silent as Jera applied the salve.
“You know, there are a great many books in the City,” Richard said.
“There are many books in every city,” Jera said.
“Not as many as in mine.”
Jera shrugged.
“I have enough to read,” she said.
She took his left arm and began applying the ointment to it.
“Why do you spend so much time reading?” Richard said.
“There’s not a lot else to do around here.”
“There’s a lot to do everywhere. You’ve got the whole town, the surrounding area, the forest, mountains. Everything.”
Jera shrugged.
“I guess I read to escape,” she said.
“From what? I’ve seen what wonderful is, and what it isn’t, and this is definitely wonderful. Have you ever been on a real adventure?”
“Only in my dreams. It must be amazing to meet new people and come in contact with new cultures.”
“I’ve travelled. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that people everywhere are the same. With the same wants and needs and desires. Everywhere.”
“But it’s the differences that make us unique and interesting though, don’t you think?” Jera said. “The same man in one situation might not do the same as he would in another. Time often repeats itself.”
Richard smiled.
“And the nature of right and wrong,” Jera said, “good and evil. Good always triumphs in the end.”
“Yes, you’re probably right.”
“I guess I read so I can be someone else for a while.”
Richard reached up with his free hand and touched Jera’s face.
“Why would you ever want to be someone else?” he said.
Jera blushed and turned so she pulled her face away. Richard spotted a large red bump on his hand.
“Woah!” he said. “You were right about the poison ivy.”
Jera took his hand and dabbed ointment onto it.
“Don’t you think it’s crazy for parents to choose who we marry?” she said.
“Not really. It’s been happening for generations.”
“Shouldn’t we be able to choose our own husbands and wives? The common man does.”
“But the common man doesn’t have the privileges we do.”
“Or the expectations.”
“The lives we live are far more satisfying than the poor. They go through their lives living from one day to the next, whereas we have the chance to do something great with our lives. That’s got to be worth giving up a few freedoms for, hasn’t it?”
“I suppose.”
“I have to say,” Richard said. “I was nervous about meeting you today. But I’m really glad I came.”
The topic of conversation had turned too intimate too quickly for Jera. She scrabbled for something to say.
“I, uh, felt something earlier, something odd,” Jera said. “Did you feel anything?”
Richard smiled.
“You felt
it too?” he said. “I knew I wasn’t the only one to feel these emotions.”
“Emotions? No, I meant just before you came up here. Did you sense the world spinning beneath your feet like time wasn’t running properly or something?”
Richard squinted.
“Is this from one of your books?” he said.
“No. I really felt it. At least, I think I did. I must have just imagined it. There, all done.”
Jera put the rag and ointment down on a side table.
“Thank you,” Richard said.
Something caught his eye on the wall. He got up and moved toward it.
“What’s this?” he said.
He was gesturing to the map hanging on the wall. Jera had forgotten to turn it around!
“Nothing!” she said. “It’s nothing.”
She got up and rushed to the map and grabbed it to turn it over. But Richard held it flat against the wall.
“This is a map of the kingdom,” he said. “But what are all these red circles and black lines? Is it… directions? Or a route?”
“It’s just a… a project I’ve been working on,” Jera said. “I’m interested in history.”
Richard turned and saw the open suitcase on the bed.
“Were you planning on going somewhere?” he said.
Jera bit her bottom lip.
“I don’t think my father would be very happy if he knew you were in here,” she said.
“What’s the map all about, Jera?”
Jera opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her shoulders slumped. She sat on the edge of the bed, head in her hands.
“I don’t want to get married yet,” she said. “It’s nothing about you. It’s just… There are all these places I want to go, but if I get married I’ll never get to go to them. I feel like I’m trapped and I can’t escape.”
“Who said you can’t visit these places? One of the reasons I’m here is to get to know you. If you want to travel I’m sure we can figure out a way for you to do it. I am happy for you to travel with me around the world, though we’d have to avoid some of the more dangerous locations, of course. If you’re interested in accompanying me, that is.”
Jera wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.
“You wouldn’t mind taking me with you?” she said.
“Of course not. I’d love to. You can come with me to any business locations I go to. We can see the world together.”
Jera smiled.
“That sounds good,” she said.
“You know, I’ve seen some of the world.”
He glanced over at her to see if she was listening. She was.
“To roam across the Great Plains, see for miles in every direction…” he said.
Jera edged closer.
“You’ve been to the savannah?” she said.
“Every corner.”
He unhooked a tooth from his belt.
“This is from the mouth of a sabre goat,” he said. “I killed it myself.”
Jera took it from him and inspected the incisor.
“Did you have to kill it?” she said.
“I didn’t want to, but it was either him or us.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Our caravan broke down and we had to go looking for fresh supplies.”
“Have you ever been to the Haunted Forest?” Jera said.
“Yes, I have,” Richard said. “Alas, I was too weak of heart to enter it. If you like animals, there’s a menagerie in town today in the market. It’ll be leaving tomorrow, they said. That is, if you’d like to go. Today will be the last day it’s here.”
“It’s been here for two weeks,” Jera said. “Don’t you think I’ve already been?”
“I suppose. But they had a new last-minute addition.”
“Oh?”
“A sabre goat.”
Jera’s eyes widened.
“No!” she said. “Really?”
“Yes. I passed it this morning.”
“How did it look?”
“Ferocious. Almost as dangerous as those on the outside.”
Richard flinched.
“These poison ivy stings are a little delicate,” he said.
“Was this all some kind of plan?” Jera said. “For you to sweep me off my feet?”
“That depends. Have I swept you off your feet?
Jera’s mouth dropped open.
“Uh…” she said.
“Because I can assure you,” he said, stepping closer, “you have quite swept me off mine.”
Chapter Seven
Stalls were lined up in endless rows through Time’s market square. Marketers bellowed at the top of their lungs selling everything imaginable.
Children ran about under the feet of customers and purveyors, chasing one another with toys their parents had bought or stolen for them, running under the hooves of horses. People cajoled and pushed, some falling over into the mud. Babies cried and wailed and hollered and screamed and all the while the fetid stench of the town hung thick in the air.
The ground was covered in square bricks, blue with white veins, but you had to be careful or risk tripping over on a wonky slab and breaking the fall with your face. Carriages sailed past down the roads, pulling up and letting out passengers before picking up another fare.
Some stalls sold food and snacks, others trinkets and jewellery, from the very cheap to the obscenely expensive. Those without permits pushed their carts over the pavement and into the road, rumbling and rattling down the causeway.
The whole place was a zoo, and amongst it all was a real zoo – with animals and creatures shipped in from all over the world. They were in tiny cages that prevented movement, but encouraged chitters, screeches and roars of anger.
“Stand back,” Gregory said, ushering Kali and Jera to stand behind him. “These creatures can be dangerous.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t let us get so close if they were dangerous,” Kali said, clinging to Gregory’s arm.
“I wouldn’t put so much trust in these people if I were you,” Gregory said. “They care to earn a copper penny, not for your wellbeing.”
“Would you say you know your creatures?” Richard asked Jera.
“I think so.”
“Fancy playing a game? If you can name all the creatures I point to, I’ll buy you a gift from one of the stalls.”
“All right.”
Richard gestured to a large creature, his back straight and noble. His hooves tapped impatiently on the cage floor. His head was upright and facing the far distance. He never locked eyes on anyone, even when they got directly in his face.
“That’s easy,” Jera said. “He’s a centaur.”
“And this one?”
A tiny creature, no taller than Jera’s hand, held on tight to the bars of its cage, his skin shiny and opaque. He had a pointy nose and ears. His wings had been filed down to bloody stumps.
“A fairy,” Jera said.
Next Richard pointed to a small creature, transparent with green bones.
“That’s a Spittle Spitter,” Jera said.
Just then, the creature drew back its head and spat, sending a calcium ball at a passing man’s head.
“An upset one, by the look of it,” Richard said. “And what’s that?”
He pointed to a dumpy creature in a glass jar with teeth poking out from every part of its body.
“Snap-Gobbler,” Jera said.
Then he gestured to a small fuzzy purple creature. The hairs retracted inside the body and then sprung out again.
“Hedgepog,” Jera said.
“Wow,” Richard said. “You certainly know your creatures.”
Jera shrugged.
“A lifetime lived in books,” she said.
“They look harmless enough inside a cage,” Richard said, “but out in their natural habitats they are a totally different creature indeed. If you are ever unfortunate enough to be caught out in the wild with them, do yourself a favour and clim
b the nearest tree you can get to. Ah, here we are. The star beast.”
In a small clearing was a large goat-shaped creature with horns that had been filed down. His jaw was bent from where it had been broken and healed back together again. His two razor-sharp fangs protruded six inches from his top jaw. He lay there unmoving, like he were dead, moving only when a child came too close and poked a stick at him, and the creature bound to its feet and swiped at the child, who got away by mere inches.
The sabre-goat got to its feet and circled its area of mud until it grew tired and settled down to sleep again before another child came and poked at it.
“He’s quite ferocious, isn’t he?” Jera said. “And yet so sad. He was once a mighty beast, king of his domain, but now he’s here, chained to be gawped at by strangers.”
“If we’re lucky we get our time in the sun, but eventually we must all fall.”
The clocktower loomed over the entire town. From this angle the top seemed to press up against the sky, holding it in place like a giant blanket. A murder of crows flew between the great spires, cawing.
“Kali?” a voice said. “Kali Wythnos?”
The group turned to find a man dressed in a worn shirt and baggy trousers. He carried a bag of malformed potatoes in one hand. He smiled at Kali, who shied slightly behind Gregory’s arm.
“As I live and breathe!” the man said. “It is you! How are you?”
“Good, good,” Kali said, her smile dropping for a moment. “How are you?”
“I’m well, I’m well.”
The man turned his eyes on Gregory.
“Who’s this strapping young fellow?” he said.
“I’m sorry, I should introduce you,” Kali said, covering her eyes with her hand in a show of false embarrassment. “This is Gregory Ascar. Gregory, Craig Flout.”
They shook hands. It was quick and cool.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Craig said to Kali.
“No, I’ve been pretty busy.”
“So I can see,” Craig said, darting a cold smile at Gregory. “Enjoying the market?”
“Yes. Look, Craig, I’m very sorry, but we must get going. Lots of things to see and do.”
“Say no more. Don’t be a stranger, huh? Maybe we can meet up again sometime.”
“Sometime,” Kali said through a tight smile.
