Chapter 22

  Elizabeth Eddison

  She saw the swinging of Lord Fierce’s blade, the greatest weapon in the Narrative, and it was like the swinging of the planets around the sun—not to be stopped, not to slowed. She had understood as soon as she had seen it: infinite momentum, an impossibility. The pinnacle, perhaps, of her own powers. Nothing—no other weapon, no creature or barrier or force in all the universe of the Narrative and perhaps beyond—could halt the swing of that sword. Save, perhaps, a singular white door. And save, perhaps, Elizabeth herself.

  It swung in her dreams, back and forth, all of reality and every solid object therein obstructing it as much as air. In her dreams: back and forth. Movement. Momentum. Inertia. Change = movement + time. A bud blossoming in the snow. A flower bright, among the ice, on a cold and starry night. A top that would not spin, because perpetual motion (perpetual change) is impossible—as impossible as Lord Fierce’s blade.

  She woke up shivering, though she was warm. From one dream into another. It must have been so, for she saw above her the blurry face of Amber Jane Eddison.

  Elizabeth was bleary and groggy upon awakening in the cramped bunk bed. Her head was full of cotton and bewilderment. Where? Why? What? The questions didn’t seem to matter as much when AJ was holding her tight.

  Elizabeth pieced it together over the next hour, though it seemed that the hour flowed past while she watched from afar. She put on her glasses, and she stretched and stretched because her entire body felt stiff as a board. Facts came to her one by one: she was ravenous. Her leg and stomach didn’t hurt from words of purple fire. She was with Jim and AJ and Mike, who were all happy to see her. She understood, more from AJ’s tone of voice than from anything her sister actually said, that she had been asleep here for a long time, and AJ had been beside herself with worry.

  When Elizabeth staggered out into a larger room in search of food, supported by AJ, she saw an array of new and old acquaintances. Elmer and Amelia, same as always. Leah, adorable. Rebecca Carter with one man she didn’t recognize and another who could only have been Alan Sheppard. Finally Dwayne Hartman, a bearded bear of a man who sat beside Leah and showed her something in a book. Music. He was teaching her the notes on a staff using a hymnal.

  They welcomed her warmly, none more so than Elmer. She learned that she’d been asleep for days. Which was odd, since she was quite sure it had been a couple of weeks since she’d seen any of these people. And Jim was there with her, equally perplexed.

  “What were you doing?” AJ asked as soon as her sister had freshened up in the cramped bathroom and sat down in front of some food. “Lizzy? On the…uh, the other side. Nick says it’s important. Where were you just before you woke up here?”

  What had she been doing? Elizabeth tried to remember. “In…my greenhouse?” The man she didn’t know, who must be Nick, leaned back in relief on hearing this. Jim also gave an adequate answer, something about being with Isaac.

  “We need to talk,” said the man named Nick. “Soon. Er. But you can eat first, of course.”

  Everything improved as soon as she got some food in her; it never failed. There were some small oddities. For example: she tried to summon a spoon with which to eat the cup of chocolate pudding, but she only ended up holding her hand in the air for a few seconds while nothing happened. She had awoken in what looked like the cabin of some small, private, luxury aircraft, and there was a grey cloud out the windows, but she didn’t feel at all that they were moving. And Jimothy confirmed that he retained his ability to color things with a thought; he startled some of them by making the table phase through a short rainbow of colors. Not everyone was startled; Nick, Elmer, and Amelia hardly seemed to notice, while Leah clapped her hands in polite approval.

  We need to talk, the man named Nick had said. And talk they did, soon after the meal, for there was something urgent in his tone.

  “Just you,” the man said as he led her toward the front of the plane. “Er. I’ll speak to Jimothy later.”

  “I’m coming too,” said AJ, who had not left Elizabeth’s side this whole time.

  “You will be, er…confused, I’m afraid.” said Nick, looking hesitant.

  “What’s new?” said AJ. She wielded a hairbrush in one hand.

  Nick shrugged and took the two of them into the front cabin. Here Elizabeth saw that she had been wrong; this was not a plane. Or, not exactly. This room had the look of a pilot’s cabin, with narrow seats on either side. Nick took a seat on one side; AJ and Liz squeezed into the other so that Elizabeth could sit sideways and face Nick while AJ brushed her hair from behind. And she had not realized, until just then, how much she missed having AJ brush her hair.

  “Don’t mind if I…er. Coffee.” Nick held up a mug to demonstrate that, yes, he did indeed have coffee. The smell of it filled the cabin. “Good thing is, it’s you I can talk to,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” asked Elizabeth. She yawned, still waking up a bit. Lingering cobwebs of confusion gummed up the workings of her mind, but that all seemed fine. She was comfortable, safe.

  “Well. Er. Isaac has difficulty taking things seriously. Ah, and his beliefs trump his reasoning. Every time. Kaitlyn is a bit unfocused. Jimothy shouldn’t be placed in responsibility for everyone. Er. Heidi is practical, but perhaps too much so. And Eric cannot, er, pull together sufficient abstract nonlinear reasoning to really understand the Narrative.”

  He must have seen puzzlement in her eyes, because he frowned, searching for her question. “Ah,” he said, “‘sufficient’ is a word meaning that, er, there is enough.”

  “I…I know what ‘sufficient’ means,” she said. “But…how do you know so much about us? Who are you?”

  His eyes widened in comic astonishment. For a moment he looked a lot like Isaac, especially with the boxy glasses and dark, unkempt hair. “Oh! My apologies. Er. I’m Nicholas Carter. Or Nikola Raschez, if you like. But, eh, I prefer the former.”

  “Nicholas… Kate’s dad?”

  He nodded. “Alive. Though, er, not the same one, so to speak, as the one Kate grew up with. I am from, eh, a previous iteration. Are you aware, Elizabeth, that this has all happened before? Not quite exactly the same. Yet, er, similar.”

  Elizabeth struggled to understand. AJ’s brushing stopped, and her sister said, “Is that where Jimothy’s painting came from? The one I found?”

  “What?” said Elizabeth.

  Nicholas Carter pointed a pale finger at AJ with the hand holding the coffee mug. “Exactly. I brought that painting back, you see, among other things, just as I brought Callie.”

  AJ and Elizabeth spoke together. “Callie?”

  Nick nodded. “Let me, er, attempt to be clear. Which is, I am aware, a thing for which I am not known. Clarity, that is. Er. Not my forte, you might say. ‘Forte’ is a musical term, meaning ‘loud.’” He paused, blinked. “It likely has, eh, other meanings.”

  They waited for him to continue. “You have experienced the Narrative before, Elizabeth. You and your friends. Er. Possibly many times, though I don’t know how many.”

  “How could we have done it many times?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Eric,” said Nick, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. “Da Capo, often abbreviated D.C., is a musical term, er, in Italian, meaning, ‘from the top.’”

  Elizabeth could not fathom what the segue into musical terminology had to do with anything. “What?”

  Nick blinked. “Ah,” he said as he grasped the source of her confusion. “Italian. It means something from Italy. Or in this case, the language.”

  Elizabeth tried a different tactic. “Why,” she said, “did you come back?”

  “Well. Er. We had to try again, didn’t we?”

  “Did we?”

  “Er. Yes. Now,” as though everything had been cleared up, “our first order of business. How are things going in the Narrative? How long have you been in there? Er. I have been unable to directly observe this time.”

  The best approach, Elizabeth thought, would be to just keep him talking and circle back around to her questions eventually. “It’s been close to two weeks, as best we can tell,” she said. As best Eric could tell, really.

  He nodded. “A few days here on Earth. So that’s consistent. Good, good! And—how goes it? Any Champions yet?”

  “…no. In fact, it has been going rather poorly, I think. The gods decided to try to kill us, and almost succeeded with the help of the Ladies. As a result, everything has been…messy.” She rubbed at her stomach, where the Chirographic would be.

  Nick began to speak, but AJ interrupted him. “Gods? Kill you? Liz, what is going on?”

  “Their substitute bodies are located in a prefabricated Narrative designed to grant access to an alternate dimension,” said Nick, annoyed at being interrupted. “Please, Amber Jane, this is of great importance. Er. A ‘dimension’ here means a plane of existence, or world, or perhaps, in this case, a dream.”

  AJ brushed Elizabeth’s hair with renewed vigor.

  “Now,” said Nick, troubled, adjusting his glasses. “What’s this about gods? And what ladies? Er. I don’t recall any of that from last time.”

  Last time? “The Ladies of Skywater,” said Elizabeth. “The ten gods.”

  “Ladies of Skywater? Gods? Ten?” Nick shook his head, frowning. “This is different. Drat! I took meticulous notes…”

  “You said you were watching us last time?”

  He nodded.

  “Any…advice?”

  “Of course! Er. Though at this point I’m not sure I can say how much remains valid. Let us see. Oh, where to begin?”

  “Who can we trust? And what should we watch out for? Start there.”

  “Right. Right. Allies, enemies. You may not know. Let’s see. Er. Don’t trust Lord Foe. You do, eh, still have the Lords, do you? Friend, Foe, the rest.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “We have already learned about Lord Foe. He nearly killed Jimothy.” AJ began muttering something behind Elizabeth. Elizabeth nearly asked her to speak up before realizing that it was a prayer.

  “Other enemies. The Dark Ruler, of course. The Mandragoran. Fjellheim the Strategist, though he won’t actually attack you, I believe. There’s the Lockbreaker in Skywater. Reacher. Vyrix. Captain Bellafide. Those are some of the greater threats.”

  Elizabeth tried to lock these names in her memory. She had heard of most of them; Captain Bellafide was notorious, and Laska considered her a personal enemy. Elizabeth had heard the name of Fjellheim, supposedly some master tactician for the Dark World. But Reacher, Vyrix, and the Mandragoran?

  “What about Lord Found?” she asked Nick, pulling randomly from her cache of questions. “Do you know where he is?”

  “Alas, no,” he said. “But, I do know about Chrestomanci. He’s in the Desolate Sea. Er. Be careful saying his name, of course. Out loud, of course.”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  She hadn’t heard of Chrestomanci. She made a note. Be careful about saying the name. Out loud, of course. “Can you give us allies, Mr. Carter? We are in need of those.”

  He nodded. “Certainly. Er. Besides the Lords and Arcadelt, there is of course the king of your own moon, Basileus.” Elizabeth cringed at the sudden unwelcome memory of the frail king landing in a crumpled heap on the snow. Nick went on without noticing. “Aisling the Leaf. And—”

  “Wait. Aisling the Leaf. Who is that?”

  “A sylph. Er. At the Sky Tree. You haven’t met her?” Elizabeth shook her head. “Ah. Er. Yes. She proved quite an asset.” He chuckled. “And Jimothy was rather taken with her.”

  “Ok. Continue.”

  “Er. Admiral Emberstar, of the Ardian fleet. ARKO, of course, provided he doesn’t catch any Chirographic in his code. Script in his script, if you will. Heh.” About five questions got caught in a logjam in Elizabeth’s mind; none made it past her lips. Nick didn’t notice, and kept going. “There is Thisk, on the Metal Moon. It saved your life, you know.”

  “Okay…”

  “Er. But most of all, of course, the leaders of Icarus.”

  “Uh…Icarus?”

  “The Star Moon, yes. Er. Inherently contradictory name, that. Always bothered Isaac. Most of them will help, and they are powerful allies. Especially the white one, the one with wings that resembles an angel. Er. A Biblical angel, that is. Er. Though Isaac assures me, the imagery is inaccurate. And he quite liked her.”

  Star Moon? “What?”

  “Inaccurate. It means that, well, it is wrong. According to Isaac—”

  “No. I mean, there is no Star Moon. Isaac has the Void Moon. It doesn’t even exist. He only had a space station.”

  A troubled expression clouded Nick’s features. He sipped his coffee in vexation. “Damn,” he said. “Er. I assumed it would reset. That isn’t good.”

  “We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” said Elizabeth. “I need the whole story. Start at the beginning.”

  “Right. Of course. Er. The precise beginning is unknown to me. At this point. The original cause, that is. Eh. Though, it is probably Riley’s fault. And perhaps mine. As well.”

  His brows creased in thought, and he adjusted his glasses, and again he reminded Elizabeth of Isaac. As with Isaac, she tried to exercise patience. He would get around to it. Eventually.

  “You—by which I mean, you six youngsters—have been in the Narrative before. As I said, an unknown number of times. Each time, something went wrong. Er. From what little I have been able to gather, the causes have varied. Often, you died without ever making it to the Museum, Elizabeth. Also often, Heidi was scarcely even in contact with the rest of you. And there were…other factors. Suffice to say, you were repeatedly forced to reset. Er. Try again.”

  “With…Eric?”

  “Yes. Luckily, his presence at least seems to have been a constant. He was always able to buy a wish from the Bright World. To start over.”

  AJ whispered something behind Elizabeth. “Da capo,” she whispered. “From the beginning.”

  “But, eh, with each reset, memories also were lost. So little changed. Only, er, minor variations with each new attempt. But for whatever reason—perhaps, ah, sheer fortunate circumstance—you had a particularly good crack at it. That is the timeline, or iteration, you might say, from which I originate. All six of you made it into the Narrative, alive, and I was able to, er, watch, in a sense. From the Museum.”

  “So,” said Elizabeth. “If we were doing well…what went wrong?”

  “Ah. Well. Isaac, I suppose.”

  “Isaac? What did he do?”

  “Well, I’m not quite sure. Er. You were nearing victory, or so it seemed, in the, er, Penultimate Narrative, as we might call it. When suddenly, Isaac purchased a wish from the Bright World.”

  “What did he wish for?”

  “We, ah, don’t know. Not exactly. But the result was that his moon vanished, as did all of its residents and Isaac himself. And, most critically, the dark key.”

  “The dark key?”

  “It was located on the Star Moon at the time, you see. So, when the moon vanished, the key disappeared with it. Er. And with no dark key…”

  “…the story can’t be finished,” Elizabeth concluded. “The white door at Skywater can’t be opened.” The absolute certainty implanted within her by Arcadelt remained fresh in her mind: the only way to open the white door is with the dark key. She might find a way to circumvent other Narrative rules, but not that one.

  Nick nodded sadly. “Precisely.”

  Elizabeth felt a familiar rush of annoyance toward Isaac. “Why would he do that?”

  “He said something to the effect that God had told him to do it. That was the last anyone heard from him.”

  That sounded just like Isaac. “Well,” said Elizabeth. “What happened then?”

  “We realized that the disappearance of the dark key meant we had to try yet again. We—by which I mean you and I, Elizabeth—devised a plan. This time, things would be different. Each of you, except for Jimothy, would purchase a wish from the Bright World. Eric last, of course, as his wish would be to enact the reset. Heidi used her wish to send two emails into the past—one to herself, and one to Isaac containing the CHIME program which she had created, knowing he would get you all to use the program.”

  “Heidi made CHIME?”

  “Yes, with ARKO’s help, because it was critical that you could communicate even after Riley initiated the Cascade. Er. Kaitlyn’s wish was to send me back physically into the past as part of the Da Capo. And your wish was to send Callie back with me to protect you and AJ.”

  Elizabeth wished Callie was here now. She needed something fluffy to hug.

  “The rest is rather, er, simple. I arrived nearly ten years ago, accompanied by those three from October Industries, who were my allies at the time. I gave you Callie, and I made sure to, eh, keep watch over the six of you. I established October Industries and grew it into a successful, if, eh, somewhat clandestine organization. ‘Clandestine’ is a word meaning ‘secretive.’ I established contact with Riley, and I intended to do the same to this timeline’s version of myself, who was ten years younger than I. But then…”

  “He died,” Elizabeth said.

  “He was murdered. Although I did not know that at once. That was how it began, the usurpation of October Industries out from under me. Still, you will agree, things have more or less worked out, even after that fiasco with Abraham Black.” He smiled, and did seem rather pleased with himself.

  “What?”

  “Fiasco. It means that—”

  “No, about Black.”

  “Er. Yes. Those three brought him in. I believe they intended to use him against me. And against you. They badly miscalculated.”

  Nick appeared to be finished now. He sipped his coffee and grimaced as though it had a sour taste.

  “So,” said Elizabeth, coming back around to the part of all this that puzzled her the most. “It was Isaac.”

  “It seems that way. Er. But we don’t know what he wished for, exactly, or why. We only know the results. He was, unfortunately, going a bit off the rails, there at the end. ‘Off the rails’ is an expre—”

  “How so?”

  “He became increasingly convinced that he was only a character in a book.”

  “That’s already starting,” said Elizabeth. “I was talking to him recently, and he was confusing homographs. He responded to the spelling of my words, not the sound.”

  “Yes,” said Nick. “It’s worrying. Still, er, it’s good to hear that he’s safe. And Kaitlyn as well. I was concerned about my children, considering their native bodies have both perished.”

  “Children?”

  “Offspring. Er. Biological progeny. In animal reproduction—”

  “I know what children are, Mr. Carter.”

  He looked at her blankly, clearly stumped about what her question might be. Then his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh! Er. You don’t know. Wait a moment. Do none of you know? I had thought…but it becomes so difficult to keep track of these things.”

  “Know what, Mr. Carter?”

  “Well, er, that Isaac and Kaitlyn are siblings. Step-siblings, actually. They share a common father. That being, er, myself.”

  Elizabeth had thought that no further revelation could shock her on this tumultuous morning. She had been wrong. But now, all at once, it seemed so obvious. She could see it plain before her: Nicholas Carter looked like Isaac Milton in forty years. “None of us…knew that, Mr. Carter.”

  He sighed. “I do not think I should have kept that from her. From my Kaitlyn. Here in this world where I do not belong, I watched a younger version of myself make the same mistakes I made. It didn’t feel right to…interfere. Er.”

  Elizabeth had so many questions. Step-siblings? How? With whom? How had Isaac wound up in Montana? Why had it been kept a secret? And how would they react when they found out? Elizabeth would have to tell them. Who should she tell first?

  “This must be a lot. Er. To take in,” said Nicholas Carter. “I apologize. We still have much to discuss. Especially about these ‘gods,’ and events in your Narrative. But I should leave you to think things over for a while. Er. There is just one more thing. An, er, a not insignificant difficulty.”

  “What is it?” she asked. He was right about it being a lot to take in. She would need some processing time after this.

  “It’s, er, Jimothy.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. Her tone was guarded when she replied, “What about Jimothy?”

  “Has he…er. Has he had any strokes yet?”

  She stiffened; her mouth open from shock. AJ put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Strokes?”

  “Er. Oh. I can see, from your reaction, that this is another thing you do not know.” He looked miserable now, like a new doctor telling their first patient they’re going to die.

  “Mr. Carter,” said Elizabeth, struggling to keep her voice calm but unable to prevent a tremulous quaver. “What is wrong with Jimothy?”

  “There is…er. A tumor. In his brain. Occipital and parietal lobe. Er. Inoperable. Malignant. And…lethal.”

  Just as with Isaac and Kate, it all came together at once. The headaches. The Bleeding God. Why Mr. Carter had skipped Jimothy in his account of their wishes in the penultimate Narrative.

  Elizabeth struggled to remain calm. Logically, all of them had been in some form of mortal danger in these past two weeks. She herself had a sentient language seared onto her body, at least as malignant and dangerous as any tumor. But…

  “What,” she said, trembling, “can we do about it?”

  Nick nodded in approval, but his eyes were serious. “That’s the way. I know of two possible solutions. One, you might already guess.”

  She nodded. “A wish. Obviously.”

  “Yes. But. Er. A wish of that type is likely to be…costly.”

  “And the other way?”

  “Well…according to Lord Fair, there is a healing elixir. It will cure anything. Er. It can be made from the petals of a flower.”

  He didn’t have to say which flower it was.