Stars of Fortune
Page 78
“You said the mirror sees the truth,” Riley reminded her.
“I know.”
“An allegory?” Sawyer suggested. “She’s ancient, being a god—but the mirror sees her soul or heart or whatever you want to call it as withered and dark?”
“We don’t need a seer to know that,” Doyle pointed out. “Maybe she’s got a Dorian Gray thing going.”
Struck, Riley pointed a finger at him. “And the mirror reflects what she really is. It ages, shows her sins and all that while she stays young and beautiful.”
“It’s a theory.”
“A good one. If there actually is a mirror, and we destroyed it—there lies her end.”
“I don’t know. What I saw . . . She destroyed the mirror. She’d hardly end herself.”
“Another mirror, another glass,” Bran suggested.
“I’ll do some digging on it.” Riley picked up her margarita again. “You said only the stars could change it. We can speculate that’s another reason she wants them so bad. There’s a way to end her—not just stop her, but end her. And if she gets the stars, the way’s done.”
“I’ll do some checking on mirror spells,” Bran added. “The stars remain first priority. Have you two chosen where we dive tomorrow?”
Doyle nodded. “We mapped out routes to three caves. We should be able to do all three, but we can hit two for certain. You’ll want to get a meal in before sunset,” he said to Riley, “so—”
“Before we get into that,” Sawyer interrupted. “And whatever else is on today’s agenda, I’ve got something I need to explain. I needed to talk to my family first. My grandfather especially.”
“Regarding the compass,” Bran said.
“Yeah, that. There’s a little more to it.” He took it out of his pocket. “Using it with a map can show you where you should go, for what you need or want. But it can do more than show you. Even without a map.”
“Like what?” Riley demanded.
“Well. Like this.” Sawyer held the compass out in his palm.
And vanished.
“What the holy fuck!”
As Riley swore, Annika jumped to her feet. “Where did he go? Where is he?”
“Up here.” Sawyer called from the terrace, waved. Then vanished only to reappear in his seat at the table.
“You’re a magician, too!”
“No. It’s the compass,” he told Annika. “It’s linked to me, yeah, but it’s the compass. I just gave it where I wanted to go—an easy one—to the terrace up there, and back here.”
“That’s more than a little.” Doyle held out a hand, examined the compass when Sawyer gave it to him. “How is it linked to you?”
“Whoever holds it can pass it to another. Not like I just did to you. It’s a formal deal. It’s mine until I pass it to the next. Traditionally a son or daughter.”
“You really save on airfare,” Riley commented.
“Ha. Yeah, it’s handy there. There’s actually a little more.” He took it back from Doyle, turned it over, ran his finger around the circumference.
A second lid opened to reveal a clockface.
“Man! You are not going to tell me it’s like a time machine.”
Sawyer gave Riley a weak smile. “Sort of.”
She leaped up, did a dance. “Oh, my Jesus, the places I could go, see. Mayans, Aztecs, Celts. The land bridge, the freaking pyramids. Where— When have you been?”
“Not that far back. Look, you’ve got to take a lot of care when you use it to time or place shift. A lot of care. Say you get an urge to watch the gunfight at the O.K. Corral. First, you’re dressed all wrong, and somebody’s going to notice. More, what if you drop down in the middle of the road and a wagon runs over you? Or you get hit by a stray bullet? Even if you live through it, you’ve changed something. And that can change something else, so when you come back it’s not exactly the way you left it. Now you’ve got to go back and fix it.”
“Space-time continuum. Got that, but you went there, right? Got a look at the Earps and Doc Holliday.”
“Yeah, and let me say it was fast and ugly—the gunfight. Time shifting’s tricky, and you learn really fast—because you’re taught and trained, but you have to learn by mucking up—not to use it for entertainment.”
“How far?” Doyle asked. “How far back can you go?”
“I don’t know if there’s a limit. I’ve heard stories—I was weaned on them—of people who didn’t come back. The compass always comes back, but some of the ones who held it haven’t. Because maybe they went too far, or they ended up miscalculating time or place just enough to end up in the ocean or in the middle of a battlefield, an earthquake.”
“And forward?” Bran asked him. “Is that part of it?”
“Even trickier. You want to see how things are going a hundred years from now? What if eighty years from now things went really bad? You figure to hit in Times Square, but instead there’s nothing. Or you drop down in the middle of a war, a plague. Even something as basic as that forest meadow is now a five-lane superhighway and you’re pancaked. You can calculate pretty well going back, but forward? You can’t calculate what hasn’t happened.”
Sawyer closed the lid on the clockface. “I’ve gone back and sideways and around in circles trying to get a handle on what we’re after. Before I got here, before I met any of you. I’d get bits and pieces, variations on the legend or the mythology, but nothing solid. And when the compass pointed me here, and now, that’s where I came.”
“I know.”
“An allegory?” Sawyer suggested. “She’s ancient, being a god—but the mirror sees her soul or heart or whatever you want to call it as withered and dark?”
“We don’t need a seer to know that,” Doyle pointed out. “Maybe she’s got a Dorian Gray thing going.”
Struck, Riley pointed a finger at him. “And the mirror reflects what she really is. It ages, shows her sins and all that while she stays young and beautiful.”
“It’s a theory.”
“A good one. If there actually is a mirror, and we destroyed it—there lies her end.”
“I don’t know. What I saw . . . She destroyed the mirror. She’d hardly end herself.”
“Another mirror, another glass,” Bran suggested.
“I’ll do some digging on it.” Riley picked up her margarita again. “You said only the stars could change it. We can speculate that’s another reason she wants them so bad. There’s a way to end her—not just stop her, but end her. And if she gets the stars, the way’s done.”
“I’ll do some checking on mirror spells,” Bran added. “The stars remain first priority. Have you two chosen where we dive tomorrow?”
Doyle nodded. “We mapped out routes to three caves. We should be able to do all three, but we can hit two for certain. You’ll want to get a meal in before sunset,” he said to Riley, “so—”
“Before we get into that,” Sawyer interrupted. “And whatever else is on today’s agenda, I’ve got something I need to explain. I needed to talk to my family first. My grandfather especially.”
“Regarding the compass,” Bran said.
“Yeah, that. There’s a little more to it.” He took it out of his pocket. “Using it with a map can show you where you should go, for what you need or want. But it can do more than show you. Even without a map.”
“Like what?” Riley demanded.
“Well. Like this.” Sawyer held the compass out in his palm.
And vanished.
“What the holy fuck!”
As Riley swore, Annika jumped to her feet. “Where did he go? Where is he?”
“Up here.” Sawyer called from the terrace, waved. Then vanished only to reappear in his seat at the table.
“You’re a magician, too!”
“No. It’s the compass,” he told Annika. “It’s linked to me, yeah, but it’s the compass. I just gave it where I wanted to go—an easy one—to the terrace up there, and back here.”
“That’s more than a little.” Doyle held out a hand, examined the compass when Sawyer gave it to him. “How is it linked to you?”
“Whoever holds it can pass it to another. Not like I just did to you. It’s a formal deal. It’s mine until I pass it to the next. Traditionally a son or daughter.”
“You really save on airfare,” Riley commented.
“Ha. Yeah, it’s handy there. There’s actually a little more.” He took it back from Doyle, turned it over, ran his finger around the circumference.
A second lid opened to reveal a clockface.
“Man! You are not going to tell me it’s like a time machine.”
Sawyer gave Riley a weak smile. “Sort of.”
She leaped up, did a dance. “Oh, my Jesus, the places I could go, see. Mayans, Aztecs, Celts. The land bridge, the freaking pyramids. Where— When have you been?”
“Not that far back. Look, you’ve got to take a lot of care when you use it to time or place shift. A lot of care. Say you get an urge to watch the gunfight at the O.K. Corral. First, you’re dressed all wrong, and somebody’s going to notice. More, what if you drop down in the middle of the road and a wagon runs over you? Or you get hit by a stray bullet? Even if you live through it, you’ve changed something. And that can change something else, so when you come back it’s not exactly the way you left it. Now you’ve got to go back and fix it.”
“Space-time continuum. Got that, but you went there, right? Got a look at the Earps and Doc Holliday.”
“Yeah, and let me say it was fast and ugly—the gunfight. Time shifting’s tricky, and you learn really fast—because you’re taught and trained, but you have to learn by mucking up—not to use it for entertainment.”
“How far?” Doyle asked. “How far back can you go?”
“I don’t know if there’s a limit. I’ve heard stories—I was weaned on them—of people who didn’t come back. The compass always comes back, but some of the ones who held it haven’t. Because maybe they went too far, or they ended up miscalculating time or place just enough to end up in the ocean or in the middle of a battlefield, an earthquake.”
“And forward?” Bran asked him. “Is that part of it?”
“Even trickier. You want to see how things are going a hundred years from now? What if eighty years from now things went really bad? You figure to hit in Times Square, but instead there’s nothing. Or you drop down in the middle of a war, a plague. Even something as basic as that forest meadow is now a five-lane superhighway and you’re pancaked. You can calculate pretty well going back, but forward? You can’t calculate what hasn’t happened.”
Sawyer closed the lid on the clockface. “I’ve gone back and sideways and around in circles trying to get a handle on what we’re after. Before I got here, before I met any of you. I’d get bits and pieces, variations on the legend or the mythology, but nothing solid. And when the compass pointed me here, and now, that’s where I came.”
