He gave her a weary smile. “Do you know how many miles I’ve walked in the past few days?”
“You should rent a horse when you can.”
He just grunted, pushed himself to his feet, and took her hand. “A short walk.”
She led him through the gardens and felt him begin to relax when he realized where she was taking him.
Lee might not have a home, but he did have a place of his own.
A stream separated the gardens from the open land beyond. Two bridges spanned the water at different points to provide access to the countryside. A third bridge went to a small island that had been formed by the stream splitting around that rough circle of land. Trees guarded the circle of stone that sheltered the heart of that small place.
No flowers bloomed here. This was the silence, the peace at the heart of a wood. Ferns grew in the dappled light, and in the center was the fountain—a bowl of black stone that was fed by a length of hollowed-out cane. The mechanics of bringing water from the stream to the fountain were cleverly hidden, just as the drainage pipe that gave the water back to the stream was cleverly hidden. A bench provided an invitation to sit and linger, to listen to the song of water and stone, to breathe in the green of silence.
The people from the various Places of Light that made up Sanctuary had helped her build this place as a private sanctuary, but the little island had resonated with Lee from the moment he’d set foot within the stone circle.
And it was this place he could impose over any other landscape. A safe place because, when he shifted it, it existed nowhere except on the bridge of his will and yet was still rooted in Sanctuary. He could walk among the trees and see what lay beyond, but another person’s eyes couldn’t see the island. Only the right kind of heart could find it when it was imposed over another landscape.
They settled on the bench and, for a while, did nothing but listen to the water and breathe in the green of silence.
Finally Glorianna said, “For today, you’ll eat and rest. Tomorrow we’ll go to my island and walk through the gardens, and we’ll consider how to protect what we can of Ephemera.”
Lee got up and took a few steps away from the bench. “And what if the Eater of the World finds a way into these landscapes through a stationary bridge I missed somewhere along the way? Or through a resonating bridge in a landscape I can’t reach?”
“Then we’ll deal with it.”
“You mean you’ll deal with it. That’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it?”
It did, but he already sounded troubled, and she wasn’t going to let him chew on blame that was undeserved.
She walked over to him and placed a hand on his cheek. “We’ll take each day as it comes, and if we can’t destroy the Eater of the World, we’ll find a way to close It back into Its own landscapes.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Will you promise to keep yourself safe?”
“I don’t make promises if I’m not sure I can keep them.”
His eyes were bleak as he wrapped his arms around her. “I know. That’s why I hoped you could give me that promise.”
Hand in hand, Sebastian and Lynnea left the bordello and strolled down to Philo’s.
He missed his cottage, missed making koffee for himself when he woke up, missed cooking a simple meal he could eat in private.
“We could get a meal at the bordello if you’d prefer,” Sebastian said.
“If you’d wanted to do that, you would have mentioned it sooner,” Lynnea replied.
He shrugged. Meals at the bordello had been another way of trolling or were part of the seduction. He’d done plenty of trolling at Philo’s, too, but he’d also sat at one of those tables just to while away some time talking to people, so he felt more comfortable being there with Lynnea.
“It’s a delicious night, isn’t it?” Lynnea said, smiling.
He wished she wouldn’t use words like “delicious.” A quick glance at her was enough to make him want to lick his chops and start nibbling. “You’re bright and cheerful.”
“I had a dream last night that…Well. Hmm.”
I know. That dream had churned him up so much he’d gotten up to take a cold bath to cool the fever in his blood. Daylight! Why couldn’t he just give in? Resisting his own libido was hard enough—especially when he’d never felt the need to resist it before—but resisting hers was going to kill him. He’d never had this problem with any other woman.
She’s not just another woman.
Lynnea stopped and looked up at the sky. “There’s no moon.”
“It will rise later.”
“Will it?” She cocked her head. “I wonder if that means it’s day in the other landscapes.”
He shrugged. “It’s always night here, so it makes no difference.” But it did. The endless night had delighted the youth he had been—and wearied the man he now was.
“It might make a difference,” Lynnea said. “If the moon rises and sets, that means it follows the same rhythm as it does in the rest of the landscapes. So when it’s not in the sky, most likely it’s daytime in other places.”
“You mean it’s morning outside the Den?”
Lynnea breathed in slowly, then shook her head. “The air doesn’t have that early-morning quality of being fresh and cool before the sun bakes the land.”
Sebastian released Lynnea’s hand, then draped an arm around her shoulders to nudge her into walking again. “You should explain this moon rising and setting to Philo.”
“Why?”
“Might give him a reason to serve different dishes at different times. Just for variety. Not that he doesn’t have variety, but—”
“Is that your way of saying you want bacon and eggs?”
“And biscuits.” Nadia hadn’t made biscuits when he and Lynnea had shown up unexpectedly, but he relished the treat whenever Glorianna or Lee left a few of them at the cottage for him. Fresh, sometimes still a little warm, slathered with butter or fruit jam…
“Why are you licking your lips like that?” Lynnea asked.
“What? I’m not.” At least, he hoped he hadn’t been.
“If you want bacon and eggs, I’ll make them for you. If Philo has bacon and eggs.”
Sebastian snorted. “Philo doesn’t let anyone else in his kitchen.”
“Want to bet on it?”
There was a sparkle in her eyes and a hint of a smug female smile curving her lips. “Have you already talked Philo into using the kitchen?”
“I have not. It wouldn’t be proper to wager if I already knew the outcome.”
“That’s usually called having an ace up your sleeve,” he muttered.
“So you’re not going to bet?”
“Not in this lifetime.”
She pouted a little. “Don’t you gamble? I thought that’s one of the things people were supposed to do in the Den.”
“I gamble enough to know when to fold. And you, joy of my heart, already know you’ve got the winning hand.”
Joy of my heart. He felt the jolt go through her as the words sank in, felt that same jolt go through him. The words said too much, gave away too much. She didn’t belong here. Even though she’d returned to the Den by her own choice, she didn’t belong here. If he wasn’t careful, words could chain her to this place.
“So,” he said, desperate to turn the mood back to light and friendly, “what were you going to wager?”
She sniffed. “Since you didn’t take the bet, I don’t see why I should tell you.”
“Ah, Lynnea—”
The sound of wheels rattling toward them caught his attention. People came to the Den by horse and buggy or by bicycle, but most left the animals and conveyances at one of the liveries at the edge of the Den so the animals wouldn’t be leaving piles in the street. Having a big farm wagon clomping up the Den’s main street wasn’t usual—and anything that wasn’t usual was suspect.
Apparently he wasn’t the only one who felt suspicious. By the time the wagon pulled up close
to Philo’s, the male residents of the Den had formed a circle around the wagon—and none of them looked willing to give the newcomers a friendly welcome.
As he hurried toward the wagon, he heard the driver say in a loud voice, “Hoo-whee! Looks like we took a wrong turn, boys. Yes, sirree, looks like I got misdirected and took a wrong turn.”
Daylight, Sebastian thought, what’s he doing here?
Teaser stepped forward, his cocky grin just shy of malicious. “No one comes to the Den of Iniquity by mistake.”
“The Den!” The man trembled. “Guardians and Guides!”
“What’s in the wagon, hayseed?” Teaser asked.
“His name is William Farmer, and he’s not a hayseed,” Sebastian said, stepping through the circle. “There’s no need for pretense here.”
William studied him. “I know you.”
Sebastian nodded. “You gave me a ride up to Wizard City.”
“Well, now. Well. If you’ll just explain to these fine gentlemen that—”
“Been traveling long?”
William hesitated, then nodded.
“Then step down and rest a bit. We can’t offer any feed for the horses at the moment, but we can provide a bucket of water.”
“That would be a kindness.”
“You boys get down from there,” Sebastian said. He recognized the hard look in their eyes, that blend of arrogance and fear. He’d seen it often enough in a mirror at that age.
The boy up on the driver’s seat opened his mouth to say something Sebastian was certain would get him into trouble, but William put a hand on the boy’s arm and said, “Mind your manners.”
The farmer set the brake and climbed down from the driver’s seat. After a moment’s hesitation, the boys climbed down too.
“Teaser,” Sebastian said as he eased around the horses, “keep the boys company and see they get something to eat.” He shifted his focus to the farmer. “You come with me.”
As the circle opened to let them through, he asked, “Is it morning in the landscape you came from?”
“After midday now,” William replied.
“Breakfast is the first meal of the day,” Lynnea said, falling into step with them. “So you can still have bacon and eggs. If Philo has bacon and eggs.”
Philo reached the table at the same time they did—and just in time to hear that comment. “He wants bacon and eggs?”
“He does,” Lynnea said.
Philo scowled at Sebastian.
“Why don’t I give you a hand?” Lynnea said, smiling brightly.
Philo continued to scowl at Sebastian. “If the man is going to start getting fussy about what’s put before him, I suppose he’ll have to have his own cook.”
“I didn’t say…” Since Lynnea and Philo had already headed for the kitchen and he was talking to their backs, he turned to William. “I didn’t say I had to have bacon and eggs.”
William’s smile was sympathetic, but his eyes twinkled. “All good women have a measure of grit and sass.”
“Do they?” Sebastian said sourly.
“That they do. Or so my dear wife tells me often enough.”
He laughed, since the alternative was banging his head against the table. Pulling out a chair, he sat down where he could keep an eye on the street. “So now that we’ve settled that much, what brings you here?”
William settled his bulk in a chair on the other side of the table. “Didn’t mean to come here. Didn’t know I’d end up here. But—” He stopped when Lynnea approached the table and set down two cups of koffee along with sugar and cream.
“There’s not much besides koffee to give to boys that age,” Lynnea said, indicating the other cups on her tray. “I hope that’s all right.”
“They’ll drink whatever is put before them,” William replied.
“Well, they’re too young to be drinking whiskey or ale,” Lynnea said primly.
Sebastian brushed a finger over her wrist. “Never tell a boy he’s too young for whiskey or ale. He’ll need to prove you wrong and drink himself sick.”
“I’m not going to tell them anything. They’re just not getting any.” She headed for the other table, where Teaser was keeping an eye on the boys.
“She used to be a little rabbit,” Sebastian muttered. “I liked the little rabbit.”
“I’m thinking you like the side of her that nips and nudges even more.”
The truth of that pinched a bit, so Sebastian just drank his koffee.
“It’s like this,” William said. “I was on my way to Wizard City, like usual, but…” He lifted the cup, then set it down without drinking. “I couldn’t get there. Took the same road, crossed over the same bridge, but as soon as I crossed the bridge, day turned to night and…I ended up here.”
Lee’s doing, Sebastian thought. Had to be. “If you managed to reach the Den, I don’t think you’ll be able to get to Wizard City. The landscapes have been altered.”
William paled. “Altered?”
“Places you could go before may no longer be within reach.”
“Home,” William whispered. “My wife. My children.” He clamped a hand over Sebastian’s. “Can I get home?”
“I think so.” He hoped so. He didn’t know how long it would take Lee to break the bridges that connected Glorianna’s landscapes to any landscapes beyond her and Nadia’s keeping, but since William had managed to reach the Den, the odds were good the farmer lived in a landscape controlled by one of them.
Lynnea came back with two plates of bacon, eggs, and fried potatoes, gave him a told-you-so smile, then was gone again.
“What about the boys?” Sebastian asked as he dug into his meal.
“That’s another thing.” William tasted the eggs, made a sound of approval, and spent the next few minutes concentrating on the food. “Found them along the road, just before I reached the bridge. Whole pack of them. Recognized most of them by sight, if not by name. Something’s happening in Wizard City that’s making folks uneasy. Remember I told you about that part of the city that was different?”
“I remember.”
William tipped his head to indicate the table where the boys were sitting. “They said the good feeling was going away, like someone was blowing out candles one by one and pretty soon there would be only darkness left. Some of the older folks gave the children what coin and food they could spare and told them to get away from the city. So they left because they were more afraid of staying than going. Slipped out among the other travelers and met up down the road a ways. By the time our paths crossed, they’d been traveling for a few days, sleeping out in the open and scared to death to do it, but there was no going back.”
William pushed a piece of potato around his plate. “I didn’t know the landscapes had changed, hadn’t realized things were different, so I pointed out the road that would lead to Kennett, my home village, and told them to follow it. May the Guardians of the Light watch over them and get them to the village safely.”
“And those three?” Sebastian asked.
William sighed. “Kennett is a small village. I think the other children will be able to find a place there and settle in, but those three have a bit too much…grit…if you understand me. They grew up fast and hard in order to survive. They’d be troublemakers in a place like Kennett, and that might sour folks on the other children. I think they knew that. I think that’s why they offered to come with me, even though they thought it would take them back to Wizard City. Not that they put it that way.”
No, they wouldn’t put it that way, Sebastian thought. But they’d know there was something inside them that would never fit in with the rhythm of a country village.
Opportunities and choices.
“They’ll fit in here,” Sebastian said. “The Den was made for badass boys.”
“Well, now,” William blustered. “Well, I don’t know.” Then he looked into Sebastian’s eyes. “Would you have been one of those boys?”
“You could say I was the
first.”
William pursed his lips. “They’d find charity hard to swallow.”
“That’s good, because they won’t find any here. If they’re going to live here, they’ll work to earn their keep.”
William nodded. “I never got your name.”
“Sebastian.”
William held out his hand.
He clasped the hand, then released it, surprised at how a simple handshake could sometimes bridge two very different lives.
Opportunities and choices.
Pushing his plate aside, Sebastian folded his arms and leaned on the table. “So, William Farmer, since you can’t get to Wizard City, what are you going to do with all that food in the wagon?”
William studied him for a moment, then smiled. “I suppose you have some ideas about what I can do with it?”
“I do,” Sebastian replied, returning the smile. “I certainly do.”
Koltak ground his teeth in frustration. He wasn’t used to riding horses, and the daylong ride was turning into a misery. Worse than the physical discomfort was his growing uneasiness.
The road went on too long, too far. He’d been there only once, but he knew the way to that foul landscape Sebastian called home. The main road curved and went on to a bridge that led to another landscape and another bridge that crossed over near Nadia’s home village. He’d traveled that road enough times when he’d gone to fetch Sebastian and bring the whelp back to Wizard City. The cart path that branched off the main road led to another bridge—and the Den of Iniquity.
But when the road had curved, he hadn’t seen any sign of a cart path. Thinking he’d misremembered the spot, he and the guards Harland had sent with him had continued riding along the main road.
On and on. Too long. Too far. The guards offered no opinions, offered no company, although they’d talked quietly among themselves. So he couldn’t express any doubt, couldn’t afford to admit he was no longer sure where they were.
Harland had entrusted him with this task. He alone had the means of bringing Belladonna out into the open, where the Wizards’ Council could deal with her. He wasn’t going to fail Harland or the council, not when Harland had all but promised him a seat on the council as acknowledgment of this accomplishment.