Page 124 of Time's Fool

The words were distorted by slow time, but their urgency came through nonetheless, and shocked him back into the normal world. He shoved past the bales he’d grabbed for support, and tried to lurch in the direction of her voice, only to smack down again almost immediately, splashing face-first into a puddle. But he looked up in time to see her illuminated by an immense flash of lightning, and thrashing about on the ground as if possessed.

Which was a fair choice of words since the next moment, the ghost come stumbling out of her.

“Are you mad?” Gillian drew a wand on the creature, her face furious. “You could have killed me!”

“You’re nearly there already, didn’t you hear?” Morgan taunted. “And the mage I was using died on me. I need a body to do my magic these days—”

“Not mine!”

The ghost laughed. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

“What? What will we see?” Gillian demanded, gesturing about. “Where have you brought me?”

“Don’t you know? Look around.”

Kit didn’t know how they were supposed to see anything, as it was darker here than on the ship, with most of the lightning too far away to do any good. Fortunately, he didn’t have to guess where they were; his Lady could tell him. Or she could have, only this time, she didn’t answer.

And worse, there was no feeling that she might do so, no connection at all. He reached for the thread linking them as master and Child, and it was simply . . . gone. Or no, that wasn’t right. It was there on his end, but on hers . . .

It felt like a frayed rope that disappeared into nothingness. There was no sense of presence, no amused, frequently taunting, but always reliable help. No anything.

He didn’t know what to do with that, or with the sudden lack of voices in his head. He was used to a constant background noise from the rest of her extensive family, which he had learned to tamp down to a murmur before it drove him insane. But now, there was only echoing emptiness.

It almost felt as if he were human again, only when he was human, being alone in his head had been normal.

It wasn’t now.

And neither was the look on Gillian’s face as she stared upward, finally noticing the sky.

“Please,” she whispered. “Take me away from here.”

“When we’ve only just arrived?” the ghost said. “But you’d miss all the excitement.”

“No,” Gillian shook her head, and started trying to scramble away only her legs didn’t seem to work.

Kit didn’t understand her urgency, until a flurry of spells lit up the darkened forest nearby. One of which exploded a tree and sent it up like a gigantic torch, splashing light around everywhere. It was still hard to see, with the crazy beams from the fire being bent in all directions by the tree trunks, striping the landscape and confusing the eyes. But not so much that he couldn’t make out perhaps a dozen figures caught in a magical battle that, though small, was fierce and deadly.

A man fell, screaming, to the forest floor, his body limned in strange fire; another was blasted backward off his feet, hit a trunk perhaps ten feet off the ground with his shield, and bounced back into the fight. Only to have another spell finally take him down. Whilst another was able to dodge a combined attack by a handful of mages, calling down lightning from the heavens to rain fire on their shields, and to incinerate the one who was late getting his protection up.

“Those are our men out there,” Morgan whispered, crouching down beside Gillian. “We could save them. We could save everyone.”

“No . . .”

“No, you don’t want to help them? How unfeeling.”

“No, don’t do this to me!”

There was an edge of panic in Gillian’s words, as there had been in her actions a moment before, that made no sense to Kit. They were all close to the ground, Gillian still being almost prone and him having stayed put once the spells started flying. But even if one came this way, he had seen her fight; she could shield them both.

So why did she sound truly afraid for the first time?

“I am doing nothing,” the witch said. “The Circle is. I am simply proving to you that history can be undone. We were told that time spells don’t work; that they were a trick played by some evil wizard or witch centuries ago. That they merely kill whoever attempts them.

“But this isn’t an illusion; we are really here. Out there—” she gestured at the fight in the forest. “Is your husband, fighting for his life. Will you lay here and do nothing? Will you leave him to his fate?

“Or will you take the chance to put it right?”

“Change one thing and you could change all,” Kit said hoarsely, finally understanding what was happening. And feeling the shock of it flow through him, almost as if one of the spell bolts had hit him straight on.

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