Time's Demon

by D. B. Jackson

  Claya, one of the serving girls, spotted him as soon as he entered the inn. Her eyes went wide and she called for Quinn. The innkeeper emerged from the kitchen, a tankard in his hand. Seeing Cresten, his face fell.

  “Blood and bone,” Cresten heard him mutter. “What have I done?” To Claya, he said, “Rum, hot water, and a clean cloth. Now.”

  He walked to Cresten, put an arm around his shoulder, and steered him behind the bar and into a small chamber between the kitchen and the common room. There was a bed, a chest of drawers, a standing desk.

  “Is this your room?”

  “It is,” Quinn said. “Sit.” He waved a hand at the bed.

  Claya bustled in a moment later with cloths and a flask of rum. “Water’s on the fire.”

  “Good. Bring it in when it’s good and hot.”

  She left them.

  “I’m sorry, lad. I shouldn’t have sent you. I thought they’d be too afraid of Paegar to steal his gold. But they took it, didn’t they?”

  Cresten shook his head.

  “They didn’t?”

  “I didn’t have the rounds with me.”

  Quinn frowned. “I don’t understand. Who was it who cut you?”

  “The men at the ship.” The smugglers. “They wanted the gold, but I’d left it elsewhere.” He thought better of mentioning Droë. “I was afraid they might try to steal it.”

  “How’d you get away? Men like that, you tell them you don’t have what they want, they’ll as likely kill you as let you go.”

  “Then I suppose I was lucky.”

  The innkeeper studied him through narrowed eyes. “Why do I get the sense that luck had nothin’ to do with it?” He unstoppered the flask, took a swig of rum and handed it to Cresten. “Have a drink, lad. You’ve earned it, and then some.”

  Cresten took his first sip ever of rum. It burned going down, but it tasted fine, and warmed his gut. He took a second.

  “Slow down.” Quinn took the flask back, sipped from it again. Then he poured a bit onto one of the cloths. “This is going to hurt,” he said.

  Cresten turned his head to give the innkeeper access to the wound. At the first touch of the rum, he sucked a sharp breath through clenched teeth. He continued to wince as Quinn cleaned the cut. Soon, Claya brought the hot water, and Quinn traded the rum for that. Before long, the pain had subsided to a dull throb.

  “I can put a poultice on it,” Quinn said, inspecting his handiwork. “But it doesn’t look so bad, and it would probably be best to leave it as it is. While you’re at the gaaz beds, splash a little seawater on it. It might sting a bit, but it will keep it clean.” He clapped Cresten on the shoulder. “Girls like scars,” he said, in a conspiratorial whisper. “They make a lad handsome, don’t you think, Claya?”

  “I think he was handsome already.”

  Cresten flushed to the tips of his ears, drawing laughs from both of them.

  Claya left them again, and Quinn allowed Cresten one more sip of rum before ordering him to bed.

  “I’m sorry for all this, lad,” he said, as Cresten started for the door. “I shouldn’t have put you at risk. I won’t do it again.”

  “Do you have silver for me?”

  “Of course! Almost forgot. I promised five pieces. I probably ought to give you more.” He retrieved the treys and handed them to Cresten.

  “I won’t need more if you keep giving me work.”

  Quinn didn’t hide his surprise. “You still want to work for me after this?”

  “You said it yourself: the cut’s not so bad.”

  “There are others I deal with; they’re as dangerous as these men.”

  That gave Cresten pause. He knew Droë couldn’t save him every time he was in trouble. Now, though, he had a better sense of what to expect from his work for the innkeeper. He wouldn’t be caught unawares again. And he would continue to trust his own instincts, which had served him well this night.

  “Then I’ll be careful,” he said. “But I’m not going to work in the gaaz beds for the rest of my life.”

  CHAPTER 16

  24th day of Sipar’s Settling, year 633

  Lenna gaped at this second version of herself. The red gown, the cloth shoes the other her had dropped by the door. Clothes she would have taken to avoid detection, things she never wore.

  She read confusion and fear in the face of the other Lenna. She had heard tales of Walkers going insane upon meeting themselves in the past. She had met herself once before, but the two of her made sure their eyes never met. Not like this time. Whether this meant both of them were doomed, she didn’t know. She didn’t feel any different. She certainly wasn’t as disoriented as Lenna-in-red appeared to be. Why, though, was she here? Terror clawed at her gut.

  She approached the woman. “You need to sit down.” She kept her voice low. “Would you like some wine?”

  The other Lenna backed away, gaze darting about the chamber.

  “You’re all right. I’m here. You can trust me.” Nonsense words. Empty assurances. She didn’t want this Lenna bolting from the chamber.

  She approached the other Lenna again, backing her into a corner. She paused to turn the lock and slip the key into her bodice. Then she eased toward herself again.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” said Lenna-in-red.

  “No, you shouldn’t be. Why did you come?”

  “I… I don’t remember. I wasn’t supposed to…” She stared at Lenna, eyes going wide. “I have to go.”

  She tried to get to the door, but Lenna kept herself in front of her. “You can’t go. It’s too late. We’ve met. The best thing we can do is send you back as soon as possible.”

  She didn’t know if this was true, but she had no other ideas.

  What was I thinking?

  Before she sent Lenna-in-red forward to where she belonged, she needed to know what prompted this Walk. The damage had been done; she owed it to herself to be certain her efforts weren’t for naught.

  “Why did you come back, Lenna?”

  The other her mumbled a response. Lenna couldn’t make out what she said, but as she gestured, an object in her hand caught the light of a candle, flashing in the dim room.

  Her chronofor. Lenna felt the weight of her own within the folds of her gown. Two existing in one time. Peddlers throughout the isles dreamed of such things. She didn’t pursue the thought further. That path led to madness. Literally.

  “Can I see your chronofor?”

  The other Lenna frowned, looked down at her own hand. She might have forgotten she held it. Then she cradled it to her chest, angling away, guarding it as if it were the most valuable item in the world. At that moment, it might have been.

  “I won’t hurt it, and I won’t keep it for long. I need to see it, to know how far you’ve come.”

  Lenna-in-red hunched her shoulders and twisted more.

  Lenna blew out a breath. “Later then. Are you thirsty? Do you want that wine?” She raised a hand to her bodice, feeling the key beneath the cloth. Confident that the other Lenna was trapped here, she crossed to the table by her hearth and poured out two cups of watered wine. She sipped from hers, held out the other to Lenna-in-red.

  The other woman regarded the door, but she walked to where Lenna stood and, after hesitating, took the cup from her. Lenna sipped again. The other Lenna followed her example.

  “Better?”

  A tentative nod.

  Lenna sat, motioned at the chair next to hers. Lenna-in-red eyed it but remained standing.

  “Do you remember why you came back?” she asked again. Lenna-in-red peered at the door. “I need to talk to him.” “About what?”

  Her brow creased, her stare lost focus.

  “Has something happened? Something he should know about?” She muttered again. Lenna leaned forward.

  “What?”

  “Ainfor. Gillian Ainfor.” Her gaze snapped up, meeting Lenna’s. “The minister. A spy. She sent me back fourteen years.”

  Lenna sighe
d, sat back. “Yes, I know about that.” She hadn’t heard the name before, but what did it matter? “Is there something he should know about this woman?”

  “He wants her to spy for us.”

  “Is there a reason she shouldn’t?”

  “She’s the one who wrote the message. The one that sent me back.” She was spouting nonsense. They both were.

  “Let me see your chronofor,” she said, straightening again. “Please. Just for a fivecount.”

  Lenna shook her head, clutched it close once more.

  “You don’t have to give it to me. Just… just hold it up so I can see the face. It’s very pretty, isn’t it? I only want a closer look.”

  This last seemed to catch Lenna-in-red by surprise. A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth and slowly she held out the chronofor, face up. Lenna didn’t dare reach for it. She merely bent forward to study it.

  It had been set for twelve days and seven bells. Whatever had driven her to make this journey back would happen soon. Perhaps it had happened already.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Lenna-in-red cradled the chronofor again, admiring it herself.

  Lenna studied her, her chest tight with emotions that threatened to overwhelm her: grief at the harm she had inflicted on herself; terror at the thought that the damage to her mind might prove permanent, that this dull creature before her might embody her future; rage at herself, and also at Orzili, for putting her in this predicament.

  A knock startled them both. After a moment, whoever had come tried the door handle, only to find it locked. Another knock followed.

  “Lenna?”

  Lenna-in-red took a step toward the door, her eyes wide again. “That’s him! I need to speak with him!”

  “Lenna, are you all right?”

  The other her took a second faltering step toward the door. Lenna considered her, dragged a rigid hand through her own hair. This was on the verge of spiraling beyond her control. She should have sent the other Lenna back to her own time immediately. Now, she had waited too long. One mistake among many. She had mucked this up in more ways than she cared to count.

  Orzili was here, worry shading his voice, each knock more urgent than the last. She would never convince Lenna-in-red to Walk back without first letting her see him.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll let him in, but you have to stay right here. Do you understand?”

  The other Lenna nodded, eyes riveted on the door.

  “I’m coming,” she called, as he pounded the door.

  She withdrew the key, unlocked the door, and opened it a crack.

  “Are you alone?” she asked.

  He was frowning already. The question bunched his brow even more.

  “Yes.”

  She glanced past him, and looked both ways along the corridor. “All right.”

  She moved to the side and allowed him to enter.

  “What is this? What are you–”

  He halted mid-stride. The shock on his handsome face might have been amusing in some other circumstance. He wasn’t an easy man to surprise. Lenna closed the door, locked it again, and stepped around him.

  Orzili didn’t move. Lenna-in-red looked from one of them to the other, as confused by his reaction as by… well, everything else.

  “I came to talk to you,” she said after some time. She glanced at Lenna, seeking encouragement.

  Orzili eyed them both. “What happened? How is this…” He didn’t finish the question. He didn’t have to. Blood drained from his cheeks.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her.

  “I am. She’s not. She seems addled, erratic. She can’t remember why she came or what she wanted to tell you. And she’s…” She winced, unsure of how to finish the thought. “She’s not me anymore.”

  “Why hasn’t this affected you?”

  She wasn’t sure she agreed with the premise of the question. She was frightened nearly beyond words. But she understood what he meant, and she shook her head, shivering at a sudden chill. “I don’t know.” She considered Lenna-in-red. “Walkers are warned not to meet ourselves in the past. It’s part of our training. Instructors, Binders, older Walkers – they all tell us to beware of just this, and we come to take it for granted. Don’t meet yourself in the past. It’s dangerous. It can drive you mad.”

  She faced him. “Beyond that, they tell us nothing. I once met a Walker – he was old at the time. I was in Sholiss; I don’t know where you were. He swore that he had met himself more than once, and nothing happened.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  Again, she eyed the other Lenna. “I did. Now…” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s different for each of us. Maybe for some people it has no effect, and for others it drives both versions of them insane. In my case, in this instance, only she was afflicted.”

  “Lenna, I’m so sorry.”

  He took a step in her direction, his first movement since seeing the other Lenna. She dipped her chin, but crossed her arms, and gave him no indication that she wanted him to touch her.

  “You mentioned healing,” he said. “Might a healer’s magick cure her?”

  This hadn’t occurred to her. “Maybe. That might be worth trying. You’ll have to do it, of course. She came back twelve days and several bells.” She counted the days in her head. “Which means she’ll arrive in the evening on the sixth day of Kheraya’s Stirring.”

  “Why wouldn’t we heal her now, before we send her back?” “The more people she meets, the greater the likelihood that she’ll alter our future in ways we can’t foresee.”

  “I understand, but has she told you why she came back? Or has her… her affliction kept her from doing so?”

  “I need to speak with you!” Lenna-in-red said, as if she had been awaiting this opening.

  Orzili regarded her the way he might a woman with Herjean pox. “So I gather. What is it you came here to tell me?”

  She faltered. “I- I came to tell you something. There was a woman… a minister. She was… She sent me back.”

  He winced, pained by what he saw and heard in the woman. Lenna thought the other her wanted to say more. She had lost even this fine thread of memory.

  “Gillian Ainfor,” she prompted.

  “Yes! That’s the name. She’s… it’s her writing… She was Mearlan’s minister…” She trailed off again.

  “Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?” Lenna asked him. “Does the name mean anything to you?”

  “No. There was a spy in Mearlan’s court. Two, actually. I knew little about them. I wasn’t told their names.” His smile was bitter. “We thought it safer that way.”

  “Well, as far as I can tell, in the next few days, you’ll ask this woman – Ainfor – to spy for us. It may be that you shouldn’t.”

  “It may be,” he echoed. “All the more reason to seek out the healer now.”

  She could hardly argue. “Yes, all right.”

  He started toward the door, stopped and held out his hand. Lenna gave him the key.

  He left the chamber, but soon returned. He didn’t lock the door. “I’ve sent for the healer and posted a guard outside,” he said. “No one will come in – or leave – without our consent.”

  Lenna would have preferred to keep the door bolted, but she said nothing as she took the key from him.

  “She’s the one who sent me back fourteen years. The minister is.”

  Lenna and Orzili shared a glance.

  “What makes you say that?” he asked Lenna-in-red.

  “I just know. I don’t like her. I don’t want her around. I want to go back to my time. I want…” Her voice caught, her eyes fixed on him. “I want to go back.”

  Lenna thought she meant back to their own time, fourteen years in the future. Orzili didn’t say anything, and wouldn’t look at either of them.

  Another knock made all of them turn. Orzili was closest. He opened the door with caution, then waved someone in. “Only you,” Lenna heard him
say. She couldn’t make out what followed, but after a tencount, a woman entered. She was small, thin, with hair the color of a storm cloud.

  She faltered when she saw both Lennas. Her expression remained as it was, though, and she stepped to the middle of the chamber.

  “Which of you requires healing?”

  “This one,” Orzili said, indicating Lenna-in-red with a lift of his hand.

  The other Lenna shied from the healer’s approach.

  “Is she wounded?”

  Orzili deferred to Lenna.

  “Hers is an affliction of the mind,” she said. “I’m a Walker, and this me has come back in time. I don’t know if you’re aware of the danger–”

  “Insanity,” the healer broke in, regarding Lenna-in-red with interest. “A Walker who meets herself in the past risks going mad.”

  “Precisely.”

  The healer studied the other woman before pivoting toward Lenna. “I’m sorry. I can’t do anything for her.”

  Lenna sagged.

  “Why not?” Orzili asked.

  “Healer magick, like Binder magick, works on the physical, my lord.” She pinched her own arm. “This… stuff, I can mend. Muscle, bone, the vitals within you. Those I can repair as well. But the mind…” Genuine regret etched her face. “The mind and its afflictions lie beyond my talents. Again, I’m sorry.”

  “You can try, can’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t know how, my lord. There is no injury, no gash to close, no break to fix. Were I to try, I might well do more harm than has already been done. Perhaps, if you’ll forgive me the irony, time can heal what I cannot.” This last she said to both of them.

  Orzili shook his head. “No, there must–”

  “Let it be,” Lenna said. “This is my mind we’re discussing. My future. If there’s the least chance of her doing further damage, I won’t risk it.”

  He thinned his lips until they whitened, but nodded. “Forgive us, healer,” she said. “We troubled you for nothing.” The woman regarded Lenna-in-red a bit longer before crossing back to the door. Lenna followed her and locked the door when she was gone.

  Orzili looked stricken. She felt the same.

  “Time,” he said, huffing a dry laugh. “It was all I could do not to slit her throat when she said that.”