Strange Attractors (18 page)

Rosette followed Drayco through the double doors, a wash of light, sound and merriment meeting them. She paused.
What’s wrong with these people, Dray? Don’t they know their city’s on fire?

If they do, Maudi, they don’t seem to care.
He was at her side, mouth open, tasting.

The place was a carnival—laughter rang like bells, music played, couples danced. She looked over her shoulder, checking to see if the alley was still there. The way these people were carrying on, she could have entered a whole other world, leaving the dark streets of Corsanon far behind.

Patrons grouped at the bar, roaring over frothy mugs of ale and throwing dice along the counter top, whooping at the results, no matter what they were. Smoke wreathed their bodies, hanging at shoulder height. Others were at long tables, clapping and shouting and stomping their feet. Five musicians played a spirited tune, weaving the melody between guitars, mandolin and flute. Low wooden drums kept the beat. Her foot tapped of its own accord and she could see why so many were dancing. The rhythm drew her in—the rhythm she recognised from the dance hall at Treeon Temple. ‘Clay?’ She couldn’t see all the players from where she stood.

Chairs and tables had been pushed against the back wall to make room on the floor. Everyone appeared to be in various stages of intoxication. She laughed aloud. The atmosphere of the pub enveloped her and she loosened her cloak, smiling. ‘I guess if I could find Clay anywhere in the many-worlds, it would be in a
place like this,’ she said, though her words were muted and didn’t bring a response from those nearby.

On the stage, Maudi. The one in the middle playing the black guitar. It’s him. It’s Clay!

She shifted until she could spot him; when she did, her breath caught in her throat.

Sit, Maudi. Over here. Breathe.

She stumbled into a chair and dropped her head between her knees.
How can it be him, Drayco? I mean, it looks just like him, but Clay died.

I thought so too.

The next thing she knew the music had stopped and she was soaking wet, gasping and coughing. An empty bucket lay next to her head and Drayco stood over her, licking her eyes. Faces peered down and she realised she was flat on her back.

An’ Lawrence held her hand. ‘You’re going to have to stop passing out, Rosette.’ He turned to the people surrounding them. ‘She drinks too much, is all. Sorry for the commotion.’

She pinched his fingers. ‘I drink too much?’

‘What would you like me to say?’ he whispered.

She groaned as she struggled to her feet. Several men helped her, though they shied away from Drayco. She eyed the Sword Master, her hands going to her belly. ‘You could just tell them I’m pregnant.’

‘I didn’t know if you were announcing.’

She looked at her abdomen: it was swollen to the size of a ripe pumpkin. ‘You’re kidding.’

He shrugged. ‘You hadn’t announced it to me.’

‘Things have been moving a little quickly, if you recall, what with the prison break, Makee and city-wide fires.’

‘Not so quickly that you couldn’t drop into the pub. What are you doing here? We have to escape, remember?’

She pointed at the stage. ‘Take a look and tell me you don’t feel it was worth the stop.’

An’ Lawrence followed her line of sight and whatever retort he had ready for his daughter fell from his lips.

‘Remind you of someone too, does he?’ Rosette said. ‘Close your mouth. It’s unbecoming.’

An’ Lawrence snapped his mouth shut. ‘It can’t be.’

‘Can or can’t, I’m going to go talk to him. Meanwhile, will you order me some food? The supper smells divine. What is that spice?’

‘Cardamom,’ a serving lad said, leaning towards her ear as he passed. ‘You’ll be staying for dinner?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘No, thanks anyway.’ An’ Lawrence shook his head, dismissing the boy.

‘Why did you do that? I’m famished.’

‘The fire? The guards? We need to get out? And these people should too. The flames will be on us.’

A crack of thunder boomed overhead and an instant later rain pummelled the roof—an audible drone in spite of the music and cheer.

‘Not any more. This is uncanny, don’t you think? Those fires will be out before they set our table.’

‘Do you require assistance?’ The barkeeper came over. He stared at An’ Lawrence’s leg.

I forgot about the arrow
, Rosette said, sending him a mental communication.
How’re you feeling?

Terrible. Thank you for asking.

That settles it. We stay, get that shaft out of your leg and eat. Then we can tackle your quarry steps.

And if we’re tracked?

I think the warriors have a lot more on their hands right now. Besides, if you feed me I can conjure another glamour.

‘Yes, thank you,’ he said to the barkeeper. ‘Two meals for us and raw meat for our friends.’ He motioned towards Drayco and Scylla who were sitting side by side. ‘And if you have a healer, I wouldn’t mind her taking a look at this.’ He nodded towards the shaft in his leg.

‘Coffee or strong tea as well, please,’ Rosette added. ‘And cracked pepper. Oh, no meat in mine, if that’s possible.’

‘You don’t like pepper and nor do I,’ An’ Lawrence said when the barkeeper had gone. ‘It’s the only thing we have in common.’

‘It’s not the only thing.’ She smiled at the familiars. ‘But you’ll love pepper tonight. It’s an antidote to hemlock, didn’t you know? How you’re still standing is beyond me.’

She pulled out a chair and pushed him down. The lad came back with two bowls of meat scraps and steaming mugs. Apparently they didn’t want the temple cats to wait for their meal.

Generous of them, don’t you think, Maudi?

I suspect they’re worried you’ll eat their children.

Children? Why would I?

You wouldn’t, but they don’t know that.

‘Drink, Sword Master,’ she said, putting the coffee under his nose. ‘The stimulant will help too. I won’t be long.’

Rosette took a gulp from her mug and left him at the table with the familiars who were applying themselves to their meals. She felt a strange elation as she headed for the stage, adrenaline coursing through her veins, butterflies tickling her belly. The bards were on a break now and the one she wanted to speak to was right in front of her. He sat on a stool, ale in one hand, guitar in his lap. He was idly plucking a string with his thumb. His head came up as she approached.

‘Hello.’ He stood, put the instrument down and offered his hand.

Rosette took it and for a moment the world fell away. ‘Clay, is that really you?’

He laughed, a hearty sound like hands drumming warm wood. ‘This is me, indeed. I am Clay.’ He stepped closer. ‘But you? I’ll stab myself with darts if I’ve met you before and have forgotten. What are you called?’

‘Rosette. My name’s Rosette.’ She swallowed.

The sound of his voice was like a memory coming out of hiding, like the taste of green apples, soft grass under her feet, gardenias lining the path to the bathing pools, the warm scent of sunshine.

He looked at her, his bright blue eyes framed in red ringlets. He pulled his hair back and tied it, still looking. ‘I know you, don’t I?’

‘We know each other.’ Tears trickled down her cheeks.

‘But I can’t quite remember. Why is that?’

She took his hand and laced her fingers in his before letting it go. ‘Because it hasn’t happened yet.’

The rain drove down harder; water was overflowing the gutters and sheeting down the windows.

‘I don’t understand.’

She brushed her tears away. ‘Me neither.’

The crowd must have heard news of the fire as people were peering out the main door and gathering in small groups. Nothing could be seen through the rain, though the smell of wet wood and old smoke wafted in. Bells rang in the distance, a tiny sound.

Clay’s face lit up in a smile. ‘There are two of you,’ he said, whispering the words.

She laughed. ‘How’d you know I was born in the sign of the Twins?’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ He touched her belly without asking and she felt the baby move for the first time.

‘Did you feel that, Clay?’

‘I did.’ He smiled.

‘And when were you born? What sign?’

‘The Water-bearer. My moon’s in the sign of the Twins.’

Tears welled again. ‘What are you doing here, Clay?’

‘Just playing tunes, though it looks like that might be over for the night.’ He frowned, catching the other musicians’ attention. ‘The hat, James, mind the hat.’

‘You mind it, Clay. City’s on fire. I’m out of here.’ James took a handful of coins from the hat and stuffed them in his pocket.

‘Nothing’s on fire in this rain, James.’

‘I’ll be going to check on my own home at any rate. Looks like they’re doing the same. Pack it up.’

People were bundling on coats and grabbing their bags, all making a run for it into the deluge.

‘Come share a meal?’ Rosette said. ‘I’d like to talk more.’

‘Me too.’ He scooped up the hat and divided the contents with the other bards.

She brought him to the table.

‘My goddess of the woods,’ he said, drawing in his breath. ‘Temple cats?’

‘They are.’ She stroked the top of her familiar’s head. ‘This is Drayco of the Dumarkian Woods, and Scylla, from the South Tuscaro Cliffs.’ She turned to the Sword Master. ‘An’ Lawrence, I’d like you to meet Clay.’

An’ Lawrence stood then limped forward to take the lad’s hand.
What do you think you’re doing, Rosette?

It’s Clay, for the goddesses’ sake. I’m bringing him
home.
‘He’s going to have supper with us,’ she said aloud.

‘Do I know you?’ Clay asked the Sword Master, his brow wrinkling.

You can’t, Rosette.

Don’t you want to find out who he is?

It’s obvious who he is and you can’t tell him a thing. He’s certainly not coming with us.
Her father’s voice was like an arrow in her chest.

Why not?

It’s the timeline, Maudi
, Drayco cut in.
If he knows the future while in the past or if you change his position by taking him elsewhere, you may never meet in the first place.

She pulled out a chair and plopped herself down.
But we did meet, Drayco.

So far. This could make that different. It could make it never happen.

And why is that so bad? Maybe he doesn’t die in the stronghold of ASSIST either.
‘Please join us,’ she said to Clay, kicking a chair out for him and frowning at An’ Lawrence.

The time frame is all wrong, Rosette.
An’ Lawrence hadn’t returned to his seat.
We are in a very old Corsanon. This isn’t your Clay.

We’ll see if that’s true, shall we?
‘What brought you to Corsanon?’ she asked Clay, leaning back as she was served a large steaming bowl. It was full of vegetables on a bed of saffron rice; the smell of the rich red sauce made her mouth water.

‘I was going to take on a job at Treeon Temple, but I came here to the Festival of the Five Rivers instead.’

See what I mean, Rosette? The Festival of the Five Rivers ended well before Clay was born. The war halted everything.

Unless now that Makee’s been here there never was a war. Maybe Corsanon never fell.

That would mean the Entity never split apart. Can you see where this is leading?

Myriad possibilities, though Jarrod could list them for you in a second.

We don’t need him to point to the obvious. It’s leading to a world where you don’t exist. He’s not the Clay any of us knew.

And you can’t be sure of that. Besides, we know him now.

Don’t play with it, Rosette!
An’ Lawrence crossed his arms as he sat. He propped his wounded leg on the opposite chair.

Rosette cranked the pepper grinder over his bowl until his meal was covered in grey dust. ‘Eat up,’ she said.

He scraped the top layer back and dipped his spoon underneath, then took a bite and smiled.

‘You want to be poisoned to death?’ she asked. ‘Is that your plan?’

‘It might be preferable to what you’re instigating.’

Rosette stuck her spoon in his bowl and stirred the contents before he grabbed her hand, squeezing it until she slapped her thigh. ‘Tio, I give up,’ she said, pulling her arm back. ‘Die if you like. I won’t try and save you.’

He took a few more bites, washing them down with the steaming coffee.

‘You two together?’ Clay asked.

‘No,’ they both said at the same time.

‘He’s my father,’ Rosette said, turning her attention to her meal.

‘She’s my apprentice,’ the Sword Master said. ‘Though that might not be evident by her manners.’

‘Eat it,’ she said, tapping his bowl with her spoon, ‘before your leg falls off.’

‘She has a point, An’ Lawrence. You might want to get that looked at.’ Clay frowned at the arrow shaft protruding from the Sword Master’s thigh. ‘I hear they dip the tips in…’

‘Hemlock. I know. Your healer said it’s better to leave it in, for now, unless I plan on staying off it for a day or two.’

‘And I take it you don’t?’

‘We’re gone as soon as the meal’s done.’ He let his eyes rest on Rosette as he spoke. ‘Isn’t that right, daughter?’

Maudi. Hate to interrupt but Kreshkali’s coming at a run, and she’s not happy.

Rosette stopped chewing and swallowed hard, her back stiffening.

I guess she’s upset that I left Dumarka?

That’s only the beginning.

‘Oh no,’ she said aloud.

‘What’s wrong?’ Clay asked.

She was about to elaborate when the Three Sisters flew into the pub, squawking and screeching, darting from corner to corner. Their feathers were glistening, heavy with rain, their necks scrawny and saturated. Two of them disappeared out the door and the other back-winged onto Rosette’s shoulder, scolding her like a mother hen.