“It’s not her fault.”
He twitched a shoulder.
She approached Lenna-in-red. “It’s time for you to go back, Lenna.”
“Back to my time?” she asked, her expression brightening.
Lenna had seen herself in reflection since Walking back those fourteen years. She had seen the silver in her hair, the lines on her face, and had accepted these as the price of her gift. Only now, though, seeing this other Lenna, and noting the weariness in her dark eyes, the slight droop of her shoulders, did she realize how old she had grown. It was remarkable that this young, handsome Orzili had been so persistent in pursuing her.
“No,” she said. “Back to the time you left more recently. You Walked back twelve days. That’s how far you’ll Walk forward.”
“But I have to tell him! The minister. The spy.”
Lenna wanted to weep. “You did tell him. You’ve done well.”
“What if we don’t send her back?” Orzili asked.
“What?”
He closed the distance between them, the intensity in his hazel eyes reminding her of the most intimate moments they had shared. Her skin prickled.
“You know now not to Walk back to this time. Whatever happens that makes you think you ought to warn me, you’ll know better than to risk this journey. Right? In a sense, you’ve come back to warn yourself.”
She weighed this. “I suppose.”
“Then we can avoid this, can’t we? We can make it so that it never happens.” He faltered, then pushed on. “To do that, we can’t allow this Lenna to go back.”
Lenna rubbed at her temple. The implications of Walking could be mind-numbing.
“I’m not sure–”
“Listen to me! This other Lenna – her mind is gone. The healer can’t help us, and for all we know, she’ll never heal on her own. If she Walks twelve days into the future, you’ll cease to exist when we reach that day, and she’ll be the Lenna who continues. Isn’t that right?”
It was crudely put, but accurate enough. “Go on.”
“We shouldn’t take that risk.”
“We can’t keep two of us here.”
“No, you’re right.”
Something in the way he said this… Lenna backed away from him, chilled, shaking her head.
“I can’t believe you’d consider this.”
“To save you? I’d consider anything.”
“This might not save me,” she said. “This might…” She cast a glance at Lenna-in-red, who watched them, puzzlement creasing her brow. “This might cost me everything,” she continued, choosing her words with care. “Do what you’re considering, and twelve days from now, I might cease to exist.”
“You might? You mean you don’t know for certain?”
“I’m sure of nothing. That’s the point. If we send her back, she’ll take my place and might well continue her life as you see her now. If we… do what you have in mind, it might put an end to both of us. Perhaps, all three of us.”
“All three?”
“There’s another Lenna, remember? Young? Pretty? Alive and well in Fanquir? Do this and she might… cease as well, when she reaches our age.”
“Blood and bone.” He eyed the woman, eyes narrowed in concentration. “What if we simply keep her here, in this time – alive?”
“Imprisoned?” Lenna asked, voice rising.
“Of course not. Cared for. Here, in the castle.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what will happen in twelve days. She might vanish, or I might. Or we both might continue to live, which would be… odd, to say the least. Every course carries risk and uncertainty. All I know is that sending this Lenna to her time will recombine her existence with mine. Only one of us will go on from the instant of her arrival…”
She saw fear creep into his gaze, but was too lost in her own thoughts to reassure him. Surprise at Lenna-in-red’s arrival, and fear that madness would plague her for the rest of her life, had consumed her, muddying her thoughts, obscuring the obvious.
“What is it?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
“I’m an idiot,” she said. “There is a way to prevent this. It’s a little complicated, and we should probably try it in your quarters rather than mine, to avoid creating this exact problem again.”
“Wherever,” he said, excitement raising his voice. “Just tell me what to do.”
“I’ll go back.” Seeing his alarm, she added, “Not far. A few bells, to early this morning. I’ll warn you about this other Lenna. You’ll then send me away for the day, so there’ll be no chance of me meeting this Lenna. She’ll come back, tell you whatever it is she came to say, and Walk back to her time.”
He weighed this. “That should work.”
“I have to do this in your chamber, lest I meet myself again.”
“Right.” He paused, his eyes finding Lenna-in-red once more. “What about this Lenna?”
“For now, she stays here.”
Lenna approached Lenna-in-red, who regarded her with manifest suspicion. She and Orzili might have been wiser to discuss their options in private.
“We’re going to leave you briefly,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. “We want to try something. If it works, you’ll feel much better. You’ll remember everything you wanted to tell him.”
The other Lenna looked past her to Orzili. She didn’t appear to trust either of them.
“We can bring you food. Would you like that?”
Lenna-in-red answered with something between a shrug and a nod. She said nothing.
“There will be a guard in the corridor. No one else will come in. No one will bother you. You have my word.”
No response.
“Come along,” Orzili said. “She’ll be fine. In a few moments, this will all be over.”
She hated to leave the other woman in this state, but he was right. She and Orzili left the chamber.
“No one enters or leaves,” he said to the guard, “except the two of us.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Lenna followed him to his chamber. Once he had closed the door, she ducked behind a dressing screen, set aside her chronofor, and removed her clothes.
Taking up the chronofor, she asked, “What time were you up this morning?”
“Early, with the dawn bells.”
She smiled, though he couldn’t see. “Shall I wake you a few bells before then?”
“There’s no need,” he called back, with a wryness she knew well. “I took my breakfast in here. Dawn should be sufficient, thank you.”
She set the device. No turns. No days. Eight bells.
“I’m going now.”
“All right. The Two guide you.”
Lenna steadied herself with a full breath and pressed the central stem. It clicked.
And nothing happened.
She waited. Sometimes she experienced a delay between pressing the stem and being tugged into the between. As the moments ticked by, she knew something had gone wrong.
“Lenna?”
“I’m still here. It didn’t work. I’m going to try again.”
She thumbed the stem a second time.
Nothing.
“I don’t understand.” She checked the settings on the chronofor. She pressed the stem again, and once more.
There she remained. She examined herself. Had she forgotten to remove a piece of jewelry or clothing? No.
She slipped back into her gown, buttoned it in haste, and stepped out from behind the screen.
“It doesn’t work,” she said, holding up the chronofor. “Odd. When was the last time you used it?”
“My Walk back from my own time. Other than that–” She stopped herself with a dry laugh.
“What?”
“The other Lenna. She Walked today. I thought of this earlier, but didn’t reason it through. Two of this chronofor exist in this time.”
“Three, actually.”
“Yes, that’s right. I’d wager all of Pemin’s
gold that Binder magick allows only one such device to work in any given time. As long as hers is here, mine won’t work. And as long as mine is here, that of the young Lenna won’t work either.”
“So what should we do?”
She opened her hands. “We convince the other Lenna to let us use her chronofor.”
“Can you use her device?”
“I assume I can. We ought to try. She’s very possessive of it, but if I offer to let her hold mine, perhaps she’ll relinquish it.”
They returned to Lenna’s chamber, which was still guarded by Orzili’s man. He stepped aside, allowing them to open the door.
Lenna stepped in, Orzili a pace behind her.
She staggered to a halt, her legs nearly giving out beneath her. “The Two save us,” she whispered.
Orzili swore, whirled, and yelled a command to his guard.
Lenna could do little more than stare.
The shutters of her window stood open, allowing cold air into her chamber. Lenna-in-red was gone.
CHAPTER 17
24th day of Sipar’s Settling, year 633
It was a long drop, longer than it looked from the window. She landed awkwardly, but managed to stand and hobble toward the castle gate.
She hadn’t hesitated to jump. She knew that would have been unusual for some. Not for her. She was a Walker, but also more than that.
Fourteen years. Gillian Ainfor! I have to tell him. Or did I?
She paused to stare back at the tower and the open window. She had told him. She remembered telling him. And then he and the other woman – herself – had spoken of keeping her here, of doing things to her.
Her thoughts scattered like light passing through glass, coalesced, fragmented again. She was confused. But she wasn’t stupid. When he spoke of not keeping her here, but also not sending her back, she knew what he intended. They wanted to try something else, they left her alone to make their secret plans. They were afraid of her, of things she said, of the way she behaved. They wanted her to vanish, not just go away, but cease to exist.
The guard by the door wouldn’t let her leave. She was sure of that. So, the window.
Her ankle ached. She favored it as she walked. She fought the urge to run, knowing somehow that she didn’t have to – instinct, vague memories of who and what she was, confidence in abilities she didn’t quite understand.
Guards passed her. They tipped their heads and smiled. She made a small motion, not quite a wave.
Despite her escape, fear of him – the one they all knew as Orzili – mingled with that inexplicable self-assurance. She had been afraid of him since coming back all those years. (Sent by Gillian Ainfor’s handwriting!) He kept her here. He wanted her in his bed, which she didn’t want. Yes, he was beautiful. She remembered loving him. An older him. Not in this time.
She faltered again, touched the pocket in her gown that held her chronofor. Maybe she should go there. Back to her time. Fourteen years.
The memory of that Walk, of her torment in the between, propelled her forward again. Not yet. Eventually, perhaps, but she wasn’t ready.
She slowed when she spotted the main gate.
They won’t stop you, she heard in her mind.
That voice didn’t allow for bewilderment or doubt. If only she could embrace it and throw off this addle-minded creature she had become.
She strode on, tried to hide her limp. The guards made no effort to stop her. Two of them smiled.
“Heading to market, m’lady?” a man asked. He held a musket, wore a sword on his belt. The others were armed as well.
There’s no need to run. Walk as if you belong here, as if you have every right to leave the castle.
“Y- yes.”
“Fine day for it.”
“It is,” she said.
She was by them. Through the gate. She started to look back, to see if they followed. The voice stopped her.
Just walk.
At the first corner she turned toward the waterfront, the market, as the guards would expect.
Reaching the next corner, she turned again, in a different direction. She wasn’t sure where to go, but she knew enough not to follow a path Orzili might anticipate. Soon, he would be hunting her. They all would be. The guards were kind because he made them be. They allowed her to come and go because he told them she could. As soon as he changed his mind and commanded them to find her, they would come after her like wolves.
She had no money, no weapons. Only the chronofor, which she refused to sell and was not yet ready to use.
What if you only Walk the few days you came back?
She halted in the shadows of a small lane flanked on either side by wooden buildings. That was the one thing they didn’t want her to do – Orzili and the other her. They spoke of keeping her here, killing her, imprisoning her. All to keep her from going back to the time she had left most recently.
She snaked a hand into her pocket and withdrew her chronofor. Twelve days, seven bells. She could go back. She had been here for several bells, so she wouldn’t even have to go this far. It would be easy, a Walk of this length. Not nearly as bad as fourteen years.
Voices startled her. Men and women nearby. She concealed the chronofor in the folds of her gown and walked on. The air was chill on this lane, in shadow. The gown she had taken was sufficient in the castle, but not out here.
It would be dark soon, and she would be truly cold.
“Are you lost?”
She whirled.
A man stood at the mouth of the byway. He was young. Yellow hair, lean frame, pale eyes. He walked toward her, concern on his thin face.
“Are you all right?”
She didn’t fit here. That’s what he would be thinking.
“What’s your name?” he asked, coming still closer.
She took a step back from him. He halted, held up both hands for her to see.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help. I don’t think you belong here, do you?”
He didn’t fit in either. Not really. He wore dark blue breeches and a shirt of white satin. His waistcoat was trimmed in silver. The knife on his belt rested in a fine leather sheath.
Cold wind gusted through the lane, making her shiver.
“You look cold. Do you need help getting home? Is there someone I should find for you?”
The thought that careened through her mind shocked her. Even if she wanted to answer him, even if she knew what to say, she couldn’t have uttered a word.
This is who you are, and this is what circumstance demands. Do what you have to do.
“I’ve hurt my ankle,” she said, her voice low.
She extended her leg and pulled up her gown, more than far enough to reveal her ankle and calf. Her ankle was swollen and discolored; it looked worse than she had expected. She knew, though, that he would be distracted by the rest of her leg.
The man stared. “Well, we should… I’m sure there’s a healer nearby.”
“I need help walking.” She nearly laughed aloud at the irony.
“Yes, I can help you with that.”
He came closer until he stood beside her. She had been leaning against the nearer of the two buildings, but now she straightened, winced at the pain in her ankle.
The man started to reach for her, stopped himself.
“How should I–”
She gave him no chance to say more. Balling her right hand into a fist, she struck him in the throat, a short, lethal jab. He staggered back a step, his eyes widening, and grabbed at his neck with both hands. She stepped, pivoted on her uninjured foot, lashed out with the other. The kick caught him in the side. He dropped to his knees, letting out a rasp that would have been a cry if not for her first blow. The impact sent a bolt of agony up her leg.
Gritting her teeth, she positioned herself behind him, grasped his chin with one hand, his shoulder with the other, and gave his neck a vicious twist. The snap of bone echoed in the byway. When she released him, he toppled onto his side
and didn’t move again.
She gaped at what she had done. No thought. No memory. She hadn’t need of those. She merely acted, guided by knowledge that seemed to emanate from muscle and bone.
A quick scan of the alley confirmed that she was alone, unseen, unheard. Somehow she had known to render him silent first, before the rest. Somehow she had known how to kill, without a weapon, without the man raising a hand to defend himself.
This is who you are. Walker, soldier, assassin.
She trusted the voice, even though it frightened her.
She searched his pockets, found a purse containing two rounds, six treys, and a few quads. She took his blade as well, and a chain watch that she liked. His waistcoat would have warmed her, but the voice warned her against taking it. Better to be cold than conspicuous. With another glance behind her, she stowed the purse and watch within her gown, slipped the blade into her bodice, and left the byway.
She had coin enough for an inn now, but the voice cautioned her again. A woman dressed as she was, alone in the city, would draw attention and questions. Instead, she followed the streets to the marketplace and bought food and a shawl. The latter was heavy, warm, but also in keeping with the rest of her garb.
Wandering in the company of so many other people rekindled her fear, made her think again of Orzili. Surely by now he was scouring the city for her, as were the men he commanded. Still, she lingered in the market, because the voice told her to.
He will expect you to flee, to run until he tracks you down. He thinks you crazed, beyond reason. So remain here, among others. Act as if you belong, and others will accept that you do.
She orbited among the peddlers and buyers as shadows lengthened across the city. She hid where all could see her, strolling, admiring baubles, tasting offered morsels of food, answering greetings with a kind word, or a smile, or a tuck of her chin.
Shadows lengthened. The sun dropped toward the horizon and the sky shaded to indigo. The crowd in the market thinned. She took her leave, because to remain was to make herself obvious.
She followed a lane back toward the castle where the wealthiest denizens of the city lived. People around her would expect her to go there. After only a single block, she turned and turned again, following empty lanes to the waterfront.
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