P. Hodgell - The Sea of Time

Krothen’s younger, thinner self sprawled on the pile of rocks, gasping for breath. He was coated with dust but otherwise naked. Also, he appeared to be choking.

Mother Vedia waded to his side and gave him a firm slap on the back. He exhaled a cloud of dust, then began to breathe more naturally. His eyes opened.

“Well,” he said, gasping, “here I am . . . again.”

Gaudaric regarded him dubiously. “So we see. And yes, I remember you from some fifteen years back. Where have you been?”

Kroaky laughed and drew a shaky hand across his face. Dirt and dust smeared. “Most recently, being introspective. Before that, having fun.”

He looked back at the former shell of himself and sighed. “I suppose those days are over now. No more frolicking anonymously in the Undercliff. Well, I’ve had a good run.”

Amantine and Ton had been edging closer, eyes round.

“I don’t believe it,” said the princess. “You can’t be he. This is a trick to deprive my son of his rights.”

“On the contrary,” said Kroaky, not unkindly, “I hereby name him my heir apparent, unless I should have children of my own. What do you think?” he appealed to Jame. “Will Fang marry me?”

“Queen Fang.” Jame tasted the words. “I like it.”

“Well, I don’t.” Princess Amantine drew herself up, ruffled as a disturbed partridge. “I will fight this. No one will believe it anyway. Ton, come!”

She trotted to the door in her high heels, only noticing when she reached it that her son had not followed.

The prince looked at Kroaky askance, sheepishly. “Er . . . peace?”

“Ton-ton!” bellowed his mother.

“Mother, I’m sorry, but this has gone much too far already. Besides, I’m tired of fighting.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. Her eyes were bulging. “You . . . you little ingrate!”

With that, she turned and stormed down the stairs. They heard her startled exclamation when she reached the level of Krothen’s apartment, then a scream, suddenly cut short. Gaudaric went to investigate.

“Lady Cella was waiting for her below,” he reported back. “She tackled Princess Amantine and they both fell through the broken rail, off the tower.”

Ton uttered an indistinct cry and plunged toward the door. There he got stuck before turning to edge through sideways. They heard him thunder down the steps.

“For what it’s worth,” said Jame, “the tower overhangs the stair at that point. Still, it’s a significant drop.”

As it happened, Princess Amantine survived the fall, if with sundry broken bones. The unhappy Lady Cella did not.

Jame, Brier, and Jorin left Kroaky thrashing out with Master Iron Gauntlet and Lord Artifice how he was to present his transformed self to the city. There would, Jame supposed, be problems. However, no one could deny in the end that, for all his pimples, the lanky young man was indeed Kothifir’s god-king, reborn.

With dawn and the end of the Change, the city was astir. Doors and windows opened. People scurried about in the streets and gathered at corners, eager for the latest news. Who were the new grandmasters and the new guild lords? What was this about Krothen’s dramatic return? Jame heard, in passing, that Mercer was again Lord Merchandy and Shandanielle, Lady Professionate. She wondered if Mercer was still deathly ill. Dani had said that immortality was a burden to him, but apparently he had again set aside his poor health to serve his city.

They met Needham’s disgruntled troops filtering back from their failed siege of the treasure towers. Needham, it appeared, had not regained his position as Master Silk Purse. Some reported that they had left him hammering bloody fists against the treasury’s iron door and sobbing.

There was no sign yet of the Southern Host’s return to the city. Presumably it was still out on the plain, chasing Kothifir’s would-be invaders back to Gemma.

In contrast to the noisy streets, Jame and Brier walked together in silence. The Kendar had barely spoken since Amberley’s death. Jame glanced more than once at her emotionless face, but didn’t know what to say. The bond between them told her nothing. As a Caineron, Brier had clearly learned to hide her feelings. Jame had supposed that she would go to find Amberley’s body, but she hadn’t. Someone else would have to retrieve it for the pyre.

As for Jame, she didn’t quite know what to do with herself. Walking through the city with Jorin trotting at her side, she felt disconnected from the streets’ excited bustle. She had had a role to play here, but now, with the king’s return, it seemed to be over. It occurred to her that she should say something to someone about the possibility of mining diamantine from the deeper caves to replace the lost silk trade. The city didn’t seem to realize that the stone was valuable. But that was a minor thing. Kothifir would go its own way now, into whatever the future brought.

Would her own people welcome her back, though, after so long an unauthorized absence? Before that, she had turned command of the barracks over to Ran Onyx-eyed and missed many days of lessons—not behavior expected of a leader-in-training.

Face it, she thought disconsolately. You would rather act alone, and that’s where events keep taking you. Were you ever meant to be a randon at all?

“Leave and never return,” the note shoved under her door had said during the season of challenges.

Others had no doubt that she didn’t belong and never had.

Here was the Optomancers’ Tower, a thin, crooked structure thrusting up into the growing clouds like a gnarled finger raised to stir the sky. On impulse, Jame climbed its outer stair, followed by Brier and Jorin. Near the top, she was almost bowled over by the gangly young man with the enormous glasses who had showed her and Byrne the Eye of Kothifir at the end of summer.

“Whoops,” he said, grabbing the rail to steady himself. “I wasn’t expecting visitors. Is it true what they say about King Krothen?”

“I expect so, depending on what they say.”

His eyes, greatly magnified, blinked at her through thick lenses. “It’s a great day, then, but life goes on. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like a glimpse of the city and its environs. To gain perspective.”

“Come along, then.”

He led them up to the Eye and threw open its door. When he closed it, complete darkness again fell within. They heard him stumble around the room, muttering to himself, then a shutter creaked open and blinding light fell in a circle on the floor. Jame blinked watering eyes and tried to focus. The image was of the upper plain. Perhaps the caretaker of the Eye had been keeping track of the battle there, of such concern to the entire city. As she had guessed, the Gemmans were in flight, with their war lizards mounting a rearguard defense. The Host, mostly on foot, surrounded each of these giant reptiles in turn and pulled it down, then moved on to the next. As Jame watched, the Gemman line broke and fled.

“So much for that,” said the caretaker’s voice from the shadows, with unmistakable relief. “Where next?”

“The Rose Tower.”

The lens of the Eye rotated, groaning.

There stood King Kroaky, Lord Artifice, and Grandmaster Gaudaric on the lowest turn of the spiral stair, a sea of upturned faces beneath them. Mouths opened in unheard cheers, which grew as Mother Vedia descended to join the royal party. Perhaps now the Old Pantheon would be welcome Overcliff once more. Certainly, Kroaky owed this goddess for serving as midwife to his peculiar rebirth. Below, the crowd parted. Jame glimpsed Dani’s blond head and Mercer’s white one. The healer was supporting the merchant, who raised a weak hand to return the city’s applause. Citizens lifted them up and carried them to join the company on the stair. All seemed to be well there.