Carousel Seas (27 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

TUESDAY, JULY 11

The crowd started building right around six, and kept on ’til Marilyn hit the closing horn at ten sharp. I leaned over and shot the bolt on the entry gate, smiling regretfully at the pair of girls standing first in line. They were maybe nine, ten—with turquoise polish on short nails; matching turquoise tank tops over flat chests, and bright yellow short-shorts.

“Sorry, ladies; I’m not allowed to start any new rides after the bell. Come back and see me tomorrow, okay?”

“But we thought the park was open ’til midnight!” the blonde one said.

“Ten o’clock on weeknights. We want to make sure you get your beauty sleep.”

“We better go find Andrew in the arcade,” the brunette said to her friend or sister. She gave me a solemn nod. “Thank you very much. We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Looking forward,” I said and hit the bell twice to signal the end of the ride.

“Ladies and gents, exit gate’s around to your left!” I called out for the dismounting riders, then turned to address the modest line.

“That loud noise we just heard is the boss’ way of telling us that the park’s closing for the night! No new rides start after the bell, and we all heard it.
So
we’ll play by the rules. Come back tomorrow, please! And bring a friend!”

“And earplugs!” shouted a wag from the end of the line. A smattering of laughter greeted this sally, and the line began to break up.

I felt a shiver of delight run my spine, and smiled as I followed the last of the riders out to Baxter Avenue, then walked to the back, grabbed the edge of the storm wall and hauled it around. It rumbled and boomed, like it did, and I was grinning like a damn’ fool by the time I’d gotten to the middle, and met Borgan and the other half there.

The walls joined with a clash and a clatter, and I looked up at him with a grin.

“Hey, there.”

“Hey, there, yourself.”

He put his arms around me and pulled me into a hug. I went with it, arms around his waist and head resting against his chest. He sighed, deeply, and . . . just kept on holding me.

“Rough day?” I murmured.

Another sigh, and he stepped back, letting me go, which wasn’t
necessarily
what I’d wanted, though I stood back, too, and let my arms fall to my sides.

“You could say it that way—a rough day.” He extended a hand, fingertips just brushing my cheek. “It’s good to see you, Kate.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” I said, which wasn’t a lie, though it did ignore the fact that he looked bone weary.

“Let me finish shutting down.”

“Sure.” He followed me inside the walls, and leaned on the operator’s station, arms crossed carefully atop the board.

I pointed at the orchestrion as I passed, and the paper began to gently reroll itself as I crossed the decking to the door hidden in the center mural. Ducking inside, I turned the generator off, threw the switch for the sweeps lights, and exited, closing the door softly behind me.

The Violano paper was still being rerolled, with all due care, as if I were actually doing the job myself, instead of assigning a doppelganger to the task. I crossed the decking and jumped to the floor, calling my ball of feylight to hand before flipping the switch that killed the inside light.

“Good to go,” I said, meeting Borgan at the gate.

“That’s a neat trick,” he said, following me outside, and pulling the door to behind him.

“Which?” I snapped the lock through the loops and shook the light out.

“Rerolling the paper from across the room.”

“It is, isn’t it? Realizing that it was possible was a breakthrough.”

“I can see that it must’ve been.” He reached out and took my hand, weaving our fingers together. “So, what’s it like, using your magic through the land?”

“It’s good—natural. I don’t feel like I have to keep my eyes open every second to make sure my power’s not doing something I’ll live to regret. If I’m lucky. And I don’t get attitude, either, when I want to do something; I just . . . think about it, and the tool comes to hand—familiar and easy.”

“So, you’re thinking world domination?” he murmured.

“Who wants to do all that work?”

He led the way down the alley between the carousel and Summer’s Wheel, his fingers still linked with mine, and a minute later we were on the beach. Tide was coming in, but the breeze was subdued. In fact, I realized as we came to the water’s edge, the
water
was subdued, the waves low and sluggish.

“The ocean’s still . . . in pain?” I asked.

“Still . . . yeah,” Borgan said. “It . . .
hurt
, moving among the waters today. The sea’s never hurt me, even . . .” He took a hard breath. “The first time, when she accepted me as hers, I managed to work myself up into quite a lather until I realized that I didn’t
need
to breathe, there below; that the waters would sustain me. But that wasn’t her, it was me. This . . . the whole ocean’s grieving. I’m not sure how to right it, or if it’s best left to run its course . . .”

I slipped under his arm. He cuddled me closer against his side, unconsciously, I thought.

“Aren’t the other seafolk able to help?” I asked, thinking of Felsic, running toward the considerable racket of the Wise One’s arrival; of Gaby, answering my whispered plea to the land, for help . . . “Surely there’s somebody . . .”

He sighed.

“Called in some aid today, but the seafolk are all . . . infected by the sea’s sadness. They want to float low, if you take me. I can understand it; they live in the sea, she’s their whole world. ’Course they’re going to take her mood. The only reason I’m doing so well is I’m an adopted son—and I can separate myself from her, physically. The seafolk don’t have that.”

His arm tightened briefly, before he shifted to face me, his hands on my shoulders.

“Which kinda brings me around to what I came to tell you. Got a problem down the Vineyard—yearling whale beached himself. The local seafolk, and landfolk, too, are doing what they can, but—I’m needed, is the short of it.”

He looked down into my face, mouth wry.

“Sorry I won’t be with you—shouldn’t be gone more’n three, four days. Less, ’cept there’s somebody I need to talk to, down that way, and he’s not always easy to net. Give my apologies to Breccia; hate to disappoint that lady.”

“I’m considering being jealous,” I told him.

“No need for that.” He cupped my cheek, and I shivered with mingled pleasure and longing.

“Give you a present?” he asked.

I blinked up at him, and it probably says a lot of unfortunate things about my relationship with Borgan that the first thing I thought
wasn’t
that it’s a really bad idea to accept a gift from a
trenvay
.

“I don’t have a present for you,” I said.

“That’s okay; you give me one later.” He ran his thumb gently over my skin, which was just dirty pool. I took a breath, and went one step back, out from under his hands.

He tipped his head, and waited.

“You’re getting a little warm for a man who’s leaving right now,” I said.

“Guess I wish I wasn’t. Leaving, that is.” He paused, then said again, “Give you a present?”

Twice now, with the present, I thought. It was important, then.

“All right,” I said.

Relief passed over his face, perfectly plain in the moonlight.

“I guess I should’ve asked what it is,” I said ruefully.

Borgan smiled. “Well, see, you get to pick. Put your hand ’round my braid, high as you can reach.”

I stepped up close and did as I was told. He put his hand over mine.

“Now, just run your hand down.”

I did that, too, loving the feel of his hair against my skin, the various beads and shells lightly grazing my palm. Then I’d reached the end of the braid, and he turned my hand up, so I could see the blue-and-green-swirled bead resting in the palm of my hand.

“There we are then,” Borgan said. “Turn around.”

I felt his fingers, undoing my own shorter and much less interesting braid, felt him finger-comb the loose strands and rebraid a thinner bit of hair. He may have been humming, deep in his chest; I thought I heard it, but . . .

“That’ll do it.”

I turned, and he held the thin braid up, with the single bead gleaming among black strands.

“I’ll be afraid of losing it.”

“You won’t lose it; that bead’ll take care of itself.”

I took the braid out of his hand, and fingered the bead. It was warm from having been in Borgan’s hair, and, as far as I could tell, inert, no tingle of glamor or power about it. An ornament, then.

Something to remember him by.

“Thank you.”

“No thank yous,” he said, and pulled me into an embrace. His kiss was fierce and sweet and sad, and I returned it as best I could.

He gripped my shoulders when we parted, and looked down into my face, his almost stern.

“You stay safe, Kate.” The glimmer of a smile broke the sternness. “I know that’s a tall order.”

I think I managed to smile back. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Can’t ask for more than that.”

He moved his hands and stepped away.

“Time I was leaving.”

“Right.” I cleared my throat. “See you in . . . a couple days.”

I tucked my hands in my pockets, then, and watched him walk away, into the sea.

A wave broke over his head and he was gone.

* * *

Cael had been busy while I’d been gone. The dishes had been washed and put away; my research books were neatly stacked on the coffee table. The rug looked like it had been thoroughly vacuumed—did Cael even know what a vacuum cleaner was?—and the windows sparkled.

The man himself was seated cross-legged on the floor, reading a book, Oscar’s head on his thigh. Breccia was curled on the inebriated elephant blanket at the end of the couch.

“My lady.”

Cael rose in one smooth uncurling, finger marking his place in the book. Oscar got up, too, and stood at his knee.

“At ease,” I said, and bowed slightly. “Thank you for cleaning up.”

“I was pleased to have occupation, and to be of use to my—to you. Oscar and Breccia advised me.” He glanced to the sleeping cat. “She is not at ease with the dirt-eating machine.”

“Cats aren’t usually in favor of vacuum cleaners,” I agreed. “How’d Oscar take it?”

“He showed fitting courage, as did the Lady Breccia. She merely retired abovestairs while I worked down here. When I ascended, she removed herself to this level.”

“Sounds like a sensible arrangement.”

I sighed and looked around me. Seemed like I didn’t exactly know what to do with a free night.

What had I done when all I had were free nights? I thought.

Worked, mostly, I answered myself. Read; watched television. Cleaned the house; did laundry.

Slept.

Well. Maybe Cael would like to play Scrabble? Or . . .

He cleared his throat, and ducked his head when I focused on him.

“Kate, may your loyal liegeman ask your intentions toward Aleun and Tioli?”

I blinked. Tioli and— Right . . . Aleun was the gardener, and Tioli was on the wall. The last two survivors of House Aeronymous.

“I don’t have any intentions toward them,” I said. “They can go home, or stay where they are, whatever they like.” I gave him a sharp look. “I’m not going to bring them across to the Changing Land; I don’t need . . . any more servants.”

“Your establishment here is modest,” Cael agreed, and glanced at Oscar, as if taking counsel.

“It is possible, in the rush of events that night, that I failed to convey that both Aleun and Tioli . . . are bound.”

I felt cold in the pit of my stomach.

“
Bound
bound?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.

Cael met my eyes firmly.

“Aleun is bound to the garden, and Tioli—to the walls.”

Goddammit, Grandfather.

Cael cleared his throat.

“While it is . . . almost certain that, released, Aleun will choose to remain with the plants, the return to her of
a choice
will be a worthy liege-gift. Tioli . . .”

He hesitated and reached down to tug lightly on Oscar’s ear.

“Tioli had been from the village, my lady. The walls are cold and lonely.”

. . . and wet, and treacherous, and all her comrades were dead, and I was going to have to go to Sempeki to undo this. Or I was going to leave two people nailed to a dead House, their futures forfeit because my grandfather had been a control freak to end all control freaks.

I didn’t want to go to Sempeki. Never, ever, ever again did I want to set foot inside Aeronymous House. I was ice cold, just thinking about it.

This has nothing to do with me,
I thought, but I knew better than that.

“My lady?”

“Opening the World Gate at this time isn’t a good idea.”

It was a blatant stall, and it didn’t stop Cael for more than thirty seconds. Give the man credit, though; he didn’t argue with me. He bowed slightly, and murmured.

“You may travel safely with me, your faithful wolf. I will take you as I myself went, and bring you to the House’s very gate.”

It wasn’t exactly a surprise that Cael had sung himself across the World Wall, though I remained skeptical of his ability to bring us both across in good order. But that didn’t really matter, because . . .