When Fate Dictates

  “Just what she said. I think we have come to the future. Why or how, I do not understand.”

  “Corran, Simon?” A voice called from the bottom of the stairs.

  I moved to the wooden rails that ran along the landing of the room and looked into the space below. It was the girl in the men’s trousers.

  “We are closing up for the day. I have your wages, if you’d like to come down.”

  Turning for one last look at the room, I made my way cautiously down the stairs. For all their new timber, their descent still bothered me.

  “Here you go.” she said, pushing a small white paper pouch into my hand, “and one for you too, Simon.”

  “Thank you,” I mumbled, not sure what the girl had just given us.

  “I could do with you both again tomorrow, if your calendars are free. That story you told, Simon, was gripping. Have you ever done any stage work?”

  He shook his head. “No, the stage is not for me, lass, but we would like to take you up on your offer for tomorrow.”

  “Excellent. Can you be here for ten?”

  “Aye, ten it is then. Tell me, Rose, where is a good place to get a meal around here?”

  “Well if you are not looking to go too far, I would try the Ye Old Starre Inne. It’s on Stonegate, you can’t miss it. Just look for the big banner across the street. They do a lovely meal and good pint of ale.”

  “Thank you Rose, we will see you tomorrow.”

  I ran my fingers over the crisp white paper of the pouch in my hand as we left the yard and merged with the street. “What do you suppose it is?”

  “What?” Simon asked.

  “The pouch that Rose gave us, what do you think is in it?”

  “Our wages,” he replied simply.

  “Our wages? What would she be paying us wages for?”

  “We worked today, Corran. People paid to be told about the past of the place and that’s what we did. We told them about its past.”

  “Oh, I see,” I said.

  “So all those people wandering around our house, paid to do so?”

  “Aye, lass.”

  “But why would anyone want to pay to wander around our house?”

  “Because they are curious about the past and that is why Rose paid us, because we gave those people what they paid for.”

  “It looks nothing like it did. I don’t understand. Why would people pay to see what it looked like in the past when it looks nothing like it did in the past?”

  “Corran, when we lived there, the place was already many hundreds of years old. They have made it look like it did when it was new, long before we lived there.”

  “I don’t know, Simon. This is a very odd place but right now I am tired of thinking. I would just like to find somewhere to sleep and something to eat. Do you think we have enough money for something to eat?”

  “Aye, I am sure we have enough to pay for some food. Come on, let’s see if we can find this tavern.”

  It didn’t take us long to find. In fact it was all very familiar to us. Obscured from the main street by new buildings and missing its gates, it was essentially the same place. Stark white walls, blackened window frames from which trailed a blaze a colorful flowers and an array of tidy wooden tables and chairs in the small courtyard all welcomed us back to the Post House. What I could not shake from my mind was the bitter memory of the last time I had been at this place.

  “I can still see him, Simon.”

  “See who?” he said as we made our way toward the entrance.

  “The man who gave Polly to me,” I said, following Simon through the heavy oak door.

  “I don’t think there is much danger of bumping into him. I should think he is long since dead.”

  “Aye, but Angus might not be.”

  He stopped just inside the Inn and turned to face me. “I don’t think there is much danger of us bumping into him here either, Corran.”

  “Perhaps not, but it does not change the uneasy feeling I have, being back here again.”

  “Well, do you want to go somewhere else then?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m just tired Simon, and a bit confused. It will be fine. At least we know this place.”

  “Take a seat, Corran, I will go and order us some food and ale,” he said, ushering me through a doorway to my left. The space was empty so I chose a table at the back of the room and seated myself at a table next to a counter along which some stained glass paneling ran. I sat with my back against the wall at the far end of the room, my eyes scanning the space around me for familiar signs. I recognized the fireplace and some of the designs of glass painted panels, but little else about the place. There were no candles on the tables, instead, magic light which had no flame, protruded from the walls. The floor was covered with a large woolen rug, which extended across the full length of the room. I watched as Simon returned looking confident.

  “For the lady, a chilled glass of white wine,” he said, smiling broadly.

  “White wine? I’ve never drunk white wine and from a glass!”

  “It would seem that is what all the ladies in this world drink,” he said, setting the glass lightly on the table.

  I sat for a while, looking at it cautiously. “It looks very delicate.”

  “Pick it up and drink it woman. It won’t break.”

  “You have ale in a glass as well?”

  “Aye,” he said, raising the glass to his mouth. “Cheers, Corran.”

  “What made you order me white wine?”

  “I heard a man in front of me order the same for his woman. Right,” he said, seating himself opposite me. “Let’s have a look at how much money we have and decide what we are to do.”

  “How do you suppose they get the paper so white?” I asked, taking the pouch from the pocket of my skirt and laying it on the table.

  “I don’t know,” he said, taking the pouch off the table and lowering it to his lap.

  “I have just paid six pounds for this pint of ale and your wine,” Simon said, frowning in concentration.

  “Your pouch has one hundred and five pounds in it, as did mine. By my reckoning that gives us two hundred and ten pounds between us, less the six pounds for these drinks. The man that served me said we should get a room, here in the city, for sixty pounds.”

  “Things seem to cost an awful lot here,” I said, wrinkling up my nose in disgust.

  “Aye, lass, but then earnings are greater.”

  “I like this wine,” I said, enjoying a sip of the cold drink.

  “This ale is not too bad either. I am looking forward to trying their whisky.”

  I smiled across the table at him. “You don’t change, Simon.”

  “I dare say I don’t wee Corran, but then neither do you, my love.”

  “Do you think we could get something to eat?” I said, holding my stomach as it growled loudly.

  “Well that makes a change. It’s usually me that looks for food,” he said, taking another mouthful of his ale. “Let’s look around the city for a room first. Then we can get some food,” he suggested, swallowing the last of his ale from the glass.

  Everything was different in so many ways, that I began to wonder if we had moved, not only into a new time but also into some new world. The streets were clean and wide. The people spoke in an odd accent and used words we had never heard before. Most of them wore clothes that looked as though they should freeze and there were no animals or horses anywhere, only strange looking carts that moved as if by magic. Everything about this time seemed to operate on magic.

  ******

  CHAPTER 32

  Of all the bizarre ironies, we eventually ended up that night in an inn called ‘The Queens’, which just so happened to be built on the same spot as Simon’s warehouses had been. The location was arrived at purely by chance. Having inquired at several inns, only to be informed that they were full, we were finally pointed in the direction of the river, where, out of curiosity, we ventured to find the old warehouses. Af
ter a lengthy and awkward process of what seemed to be called ‘booking in’ we made our way toward our room.

  “So how do you think this here thing works then?” Simon said, holding up the odd-looking card.

  “I don’t know but I am guessing that we are about to find out.”

  We stopped in the middle of the hallway, as Simon bent to do up his shoelace. I watched nervously as he fiddled with his lace, which obviously had not come undone. I knelt next to him. “What are you doing?” I whispered, a man and woman disappeared through a door into what I assumed was their room. Simon straightened, taking my hand and slipping it into the crook of his arm.

  “In answer to your question, Corran, I was watching what to do with this here card.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling a bit dim.

  “Well the man did say it was the key, so I guessed that pair would need one to get into their room.”

  “While we are on the subject of your obviously superior intelligence, could you tell me how you knew what to do with the funny-looking quill the man downstairs gave you to write with?”

  He laughed. “Well I must say it behaved very oddly when I used it, but knowing how to use it was easy. I let him use it first.”

  Thanks in no small part to Simon’s ingenuity, entry to the room proved relatively simple. He simply slipped the card into a slot by the side of the door; a click followed as the lock opened and the door freed itself. Again, as if by magic, Simon fitted the card into a similar slot on the inside of the room and any need for candles was eliminated.

  “Okay, so how did you know how to do that?” I asked.

  “The man downstairs suggested that to get light, I had to put this card into this slot.” he said, pointing to the wall-mounted box.

  “Simon, look, it’s a giant looking glass,” I said, staring at my reflection. Cautiously, I ran my hands over my cheeks. “Is that what I look like?” I whispered.

  He moved across the room and stood behind me and I saw his reflection, as clear as if I were looking directly at him.

  “Aye, lass, I would say that is a fair likeness,” he said, wrapping his arms gently around my waist.

  “How do they make it so clear?” I asked, still not able to take my eyes off the giant slab of glass.

  “Corran, I don’t know, but what I am more interested in is this pane of glass,” he said, moving his hand and pointing toward a smooth black object. “I saw one, this afternoon, in a window and it had portraits of people and animals in it. But you know what was really special about it, Corran?”

  I shook my head, still watching my reflection. “No, Simon, I don’t.”

  “The portraits moved and they looked as life-like as the reflection you are looking at now.”

  “Do you think it’s magic?” I said, turning to face him.

  “No, I don’t but I would very much like to know what it is,” he said, reaching his hand out to touch the black object.

  “Don’t touch it Simon, you don’t know what might happen,” I warned, suddenly feeling panicked.

  Ignoring me, he moved his hand to the top of the object, where a thin rectangular box lay. I moved closer to look at the thing in his hands. It had tiny, raised areas that had numbers written on them. I watched as Simon ran his fingers over the numbers. Then he pushed one and suddenly a loud noise came from the black object. I grabbed hold of his hand, clinging fearfully to him. “Put it down, please, Simon. You are scaring me.”

  “Don’t be so silly woman.”

  “What have you done to it?” I shouted, as the sounds grew louder, “Stop touching the numbers, you are making it angry.”

  He moved my hand away from his. “It’s not angry, Corran, I have just made it louder. Look, I can make it quieter as well,” he said, pushing down on the raised areas with his finger.

  Suddenly a face filled the centre of the object and started to talk to us.

  “Make it stop, Simon,” I demanded, trying to grab the rectangular thing off him. “Get the man out of here.”

  “He is not in here, Corran, he’s in the box and I can make him go away any time I want.”

  “Well I want you to make him go away now,” I said, forcibly.

  “Alright, don’t panic,” he said, pushing another raised area with his finger.

  The face and the noise disappeared and I sank onto the bed with relief. The mattress was the softest I had ever felt and the quilt was covered with brilliant white linen. I watched as Simon moved across the room toward another door.

  “What do you think is through there?” I asked as he raised his hand to the handle.

  “No idea, but I am quite keen to find out,” he said, turning the handle and pushing the door ajar.

  I got up off the bed and followed him into the room. It had the largest tub I had ever seen, with metal pipes coming up out of the top. Simon pushed a lever and water started to flow from the pipe. He reached into the tub and pushed a black stopper into a hole in the tub. “Stop the water, Simon, there will be water all over the room.” I cried.

  “Corran, will you please calm down. Come, put your hand in the water?” he said.

  I did as he asked and to my amazement found that it was warm.

  “Now that is magic. Where do you think the fire is that heats the water?”

  He shook his head. “No, lass, not magic, just very clever.

  “Now, would you like to bathe?” he said.

  “Bathe? Is that what the tub is for?”

  “Aye, I should imagine so. Just take the stopper out when you are done and the water should drain away through that hole.”

  In the time that it took me to bathe, Simon had learned that the strange black object in the room was called a television and I learned, within a very short time of returning to the room, that this television had taken over his life.

  “Don’t you think that we should be trying to find out how to get home?” I asked eventually.

  “Aye, we can talk about that over our meal. The man downstairs said that it should be up in about an hour, which we are fast approaching.”

  “Right, so in the meantime, we sit and watch people going about their lives on a strange object we don’t understand, when we have no idea what to do about our own life?” I snapped.

  He nodded. “Aye, I guess we do,” he replied.

  Thankfully, a knock at the door interrupted what I was about to say and Simon rose from his seat in front of the television and moved toward the door.

  “Room service,” said a cheery young man. I watched through the gap in the door as he removed two trays from a silver cart and handed one of them to Simon.

  “Thank you,” Simon said, taking one tray off the young man and handing him some coins from his pocket. I moved behind Simon and took the tray off him, freeing his hands to take the other tray and a bottle of wine from the young man.

  “Thank you sir; I hope you enjoy your meal,” the cheerful lad said, returning his attention to his silver cart.

  Placing the trays on the table by the television, I pulled up another chair. “This all looks very nice,” I said, as the glorious aroma of freshly cooked beef filled the room.

  “Aye, it sounded nice too. Would you like some wine?”

  “Yes please.”

  Simon lifted the bottle and looked curiously at it, running his fingers over its top. “Just one problem,” he said.

  “Oh aye, what would that be?” I asked.

  “I have no idea how to get into it.”

  “Well, I am happy to work on opening the bottle after we have eaten,” I said, feeling the cramp of hunger pulling at my stomach.

  “Aye,” he said, sitting himself on the chair by the television and lifting the knife. “This is a fine piece of beef. Life may be different in these times but I am very pleased to find out that a piece of beef is still beef.”

  When the meal was finished, I lifted the bottle of wine off the table and made for the door.

  “What are you doing?” Simon asked, taking his eyes
off the television, momentarily.

  “I am going downstairs to ask someone how to open it,” I replied.

  “Oh, right,” he said, but I was not sure he had heard me over the noise of the television.

  “Are you absolutely sure those people can’t see us?” I asked, pushing the door open.

  “Aye, I have told you, Corran, only we can see them.”

  “Well that doesn’t seem very fair to me,” I said, disappearing through the door.

  I didn’t mind that the man in the room downstairs looked sideways at me when I asked him how to the open the bottle, I didn’t even mind that he laughed as I walked away, but what I did mind was that I had to drink the wine with only my thoughts for company. The television had consumed Simon’s attention to such a point that even the mention of Duncan raised little more than his eyebrows. Eventually, worn out with worry and fear, I climbed into bed alone and when I awoke sometime in the night, it was to find that I was still alone in the bed. My mind mulled over the day’s events and I tried desperately to figure out what had brought us to this time and how to get home. The only sensible conclusion I could reach was that the crystal was in some way connected to where we were and that meant that the crystal could get us home.

  I was woken by the ringing of a strange bell noise on the table beside the bed. I sat up with a start, rubbing my eyes to clear the sleep from them. The first thing I noticed was that the television was still making noises and the second thing was the fact that Simon had an odd object, which appeared to be made out of ivory or bone, held to his ear. And he was talking to it.

  “Simon what on earth are you doing?” I asked, staring at him.

  He raised his finger to his lips, “Shh, I am busy.”

  “Have you gone mad with sitting here watching that television all night?” I barked reaching across to him.

  He moved the object from his ear and placed it onto some sort of cradle, also seemingly made of ivory or bone.

  “I was on the phone, ordering us some breakfast,” he said, with no small degree of triumph in his voice.

  “On the what?”