Mirror Sight
Page 156
He lifted his burdens and hurried ashore.
• • •
Cade had never been to Jax’s house before, but he knew exactly where it was, one block from the river. It was not the seedy part of town, but it was not one of the better neighborhoods, either. Cade also knew where Thadd and Jonny lived. He’d made a point of learning as much about the rebel leaders as he could.
He strode up to the small cottage with its shutters closed, but he detected light in the cracks. He’d have been surprised if Jax had not been up. The news of the professor’s mill fire would have spread quickly among the rebels.
Cade knocked on the door. A moment later, a small panel slid open, and Jax peered out at him.
“Cade? What in damnation are you doing here?”
“Can you let us in?”
“Whose hind end is that sticking out on your shoulder?”
“You met her last night.”
Jax grumbled, then opened the door just enough to allow Cade to dash in, then swiftly closed it and drove the bolt home. Cade did not hesitate, but crossed the room to Jax’s cot and lay Karigan down on it.
“Is she dead?” Jax demanded.
“No. Just . . . drugged. Morphia. Do you think you could stoke up the heat? We’re both wet.”
“What did you do, swim here?”
“Something like that.”
Jax moved to the small coal stove and opened the grate. Orange flames flickered inside. Cade closed his eyes, not wishing to see flames.
“So, you know your professor’s mill is burning,” Jax said matter-of-factly, shoveling coal into the stove.
“Yes, and the professor with it.”
“You know that for sure?” Jax slammed the grate shut.
“We . . . we were there with him and almost got caught in it ourselves.” Jax would have no idea what the professor had stored in the mill. Cade had kept that secret.
Jax squinted hard at him. “The girl is his mad niece, isn’t she.”
Cade nodded.
“Sounds like you’ve got some story to tell, but I hope you aren’t bringing a load of Inspectors down on me.”
“No. No Inspectors. My guess is that they are concentrated at the mill and the professor’s house. Look, Jax, I need your help. Everything has unraveled.”
“Why should I stick my neck out? I don’t need Inspectors looking my way.”
“You are a leader of our group,” Cade said. “What is our primary goal?”
“To oust the emperor to make life better for everyone. To get rid of slavery at all levels.”
“Yes, and the key to all that may be the young woman lying on your bed.”
“How could—”
“No time for explanations,” Cade said. “I’ll tell you what I need you to do. But first, do you have a change of clothes? I’m freezing. Something for Miss Goodgrave, too.”
Karigan floated through a strange series of visions with long stretches of darkness between. Her memory was hazy, unreliable. She remembered being at the old mill, the professor hugging her. After that, she had blurred images of Cade staring into her face, saying things to her she could not recall. There were nightmarish tunnels and water. And now she was on a bed. Not her nice bed back at the professor’s but more comfortable than . . . than what? How had she got here? Where was here? She was clammy cold and shivering.
She peered at her surroundings. At first everything was blurry then resolved into multiples. Three or four of the same chair, three or four of the same table, and so forth. The place smelled of sawdust.
Cade was talking to some man. It took too much effort to concentrate on what was being said. It came to her as a jumble, like another language. There were three of the man. She thought she might recognize him, but she couldn’t place him just now. And, there was three of Cade. Three of Cade stripping out of his clothes. She watched in fascination as coat and vest came off. Since it was three of everything, it was coats and vests.
Off came his shirts, and there were the fine shoulders and chest . . . chests . . . she had seen before when he’d been at practice in the mill. Off came his trousers and undergarments. This was a new view, with three of everything. She could not say if this was a very nice dream vision or something really happening, but she was quite enjoying it. Cade, she thought, was well proportioned in every way—threefold!
All too soon he started to dress again. He had some final words with the other man, and the man left. Karigan started to slip into oblivion again, until she felt someone’s hand on her. She grabbed and caught Cade’s wrist. His real wrist, not an illusory one. Cade yelped.
“You’re awake,” he said a heartbeat later.
“Am I?”
“We need to get you into something dry. Jax pulled out this nightshirt for you.”
Karigan blinked trying to see it clearly. Cade reached to start unbuttoning her shirt. She slapped his hand away.
“I can do it.” Just speaking took great effort, so she wasn’t sure she really could. “Turn around.”
Cade obediently crossed the room to the stove, all three of him turning his backs on her. She struggled with buttons, fighting the darkness that tried to reabsorb her. What was wrong with her? She didn’t feel hurt or injured, rather the opposite. Just drifty, floaty, sort of happy. She also knew this was somehow all very wrong, and yet it did not perturb her like it should have.
She’d have asked Cade about what was happening, but it was hard when she was concentrating on peeling off wet garb. Once she had succeeded, she pulled on the oversized nightshirt.
• • •
Cade had never been to Jax’s house before, but he knew exactly where it was, one block from the river. It was not the seedy part of town, but it was not one of the better neighborhoods, either. Cade also knew where Thadd and Jonny lived. He’d made a point of learning as much about the rebel leaders as he could.
He strode up to the small cottage with its shutters closed, but he detected light in the cracks. He’d have been surprised if Jax had not been up. The news of the professor’s mill fire would have spread quickly among the rebels.
Cade knocked on the door. A moment later, a small panel slid open, and Jax peered out at him.
“Cade? What in damnation are you doing here?”
“Can you let us in?”
“Whose hind end is that sticking out on your shoulder?”
“You met her last night.”
Jax grumbled, then opened the door just enough to allow Cade to dash in, then swiftly closed it and drove the bolt home. Cade did not hesitate, but crossed the room to Jax’s cot and lay Karigan down on it.
“Is she dead?” Jax demanded.
“No. Just . . . drugged. Morphia. Do you think you could stoke up the heat? We’re both wet.”
“What did you do, swim here?”
“Something like that.”
Jax moved to the small coal stove and opened the grate. Orange flames flickered inside. Cade closed his eyes, not wishing to see flames.
“So, you know your professor’s mill is burning,” Jax said matter-of-factly, shoveling coal into the stove.
“Yes, and the professor with it.”
“You know that for sure?” Jax slammed the grate shut.
“We . . . we were there with him and almost got caught in it ourselves.” Jax would have no idea what the professor had stored in the mill. Cade had kept that secret.
Jax squinted hard at him. “The girl is his mad niece, isn’t she.”
Cade nodded.
“Sounds like you’ve got some story to tell, but I hope you aren’t bringing a load of Inspectors down on me.”
“No. No Inspectors. My guess is that they are concentrated at the mill and the professor’s house. Look, Jax, I need your help. Everything has unraveled.”
“Why should I stick my neck out? I don’t need Inspectors looking my way.”
“You are a leader of our group,” Cade said. “What is our primary goal?”
“To oust the emperor to make life better for everyone. To get rid of slavery at all levels.”
“Yes, and the key to all that may be the young woman lying on your bed.”
“How could—”
“No time for explanations,” Cade said. “I’ll tell you what I need you to do. But first, do you have a change of clothes? I’m freezing. Something for Miss Goodgrave, too.”
Karigan floated through a strange series of visions with long stretches of darkness between. Her memory was hazy, unreliable. She remembered being at the old mill, the professor hugging her. After that, she had blurred images of Cade staring into her face, saying things to her she could not recall. There were nightmarish tunnels and water. And now she was on a bed. Not her nice bed back at the professor’s but more comfortable than . . . than what? How had she got here? Where was here? She was clammy cold and shivering.
She peered at her surroundings. At first everything was blurry then resolved into multiples. Three or four of the same chair, three or four of the same table, and so forth. The place smelled of sawdust.
Cade was talking to some man. It took too much effort to concentrate on what was being said. It came to her as a jumble, like another language. There were three of the man. She thought she might recognize him, but she couldn’t place him just now. And, there was three of Cade. Three of Cade stripping out of his clothes. She watched in fascination as coat and vest came off. Since it was three of everything, it was coats and vests.
Off came his shirts, and there were the fine shoulders and chest . . . chests . . . she had seen before when he’d been at practice in the mill. Off came his trousers and undergarments. This was a new view, with three of everything. She could not say if this was a very nice dream vision or something really happening, but she was quite enjoying it. Cade, she thought, was well proportioned in every way—threefold!
All too soon he started to dress again. He had some final words with the other man, and the man left. Karigan started to slip into oblivion again, until she felt someone’s hand on her. She grabbed and caught Cade’s wrist. His real wrist, not an illusory one. Cade yelped.
“You’re awake,” he said a heartbeat later.
“Am I?”
“We need to get you into something dry. Jax pulled out this nightshirt for you.”
Karigan blinked trying to see it clearly. Cade reached to start unbuttoning her shirt. She slapped his hand away.
“I can do it.” Just speaking took great effort, so she wasn’t sure she really could. “Turn around.”
Cade obediently crossed the room to the stove, all three of him turning his backs on her. She struggled with buttons, fighting the darkness that tried to reabsorb her. What was wrong with her? She didn’t feel hurt or injured, rather the opposite. Just drifty, floaty, sort of happy. She also knew this was somehow all very wrong, and yet it did not perturb her like it should have.
She’d have asked Cade about what was happening, but it was hard when she was concentrating on peeling off wet garb. Once she had succeeded, she pulled on the oversized nightshirt.
