Arrows of Time (19 page)

Her white hair was cropped close, her body lean and ropy, browned from the sun like dried fruit. She was clothed in colourful material, a flowing curtain wrapped and tied in ways he hadn’t seen before. He checked his database and found a similar style in Earth’s Hindu culture. As the gyrating beneath her lids subsided, her shoulders squared. She smiled and let out a sigh. The expression lit up her face, turning it into an image of welcome and delight. She fluttered
her lashes, eyes opening. They were piercing green gems, like freshwater ponds in the springtime. He smiled back.

‘You’ve come,’ she said, her voice surprisingly deep for her size and gender.

‘We followed the thread of your call.’

‘Indeed you did.’

Selene raised her head when the Caller spoke and stepped forward to introduce Jarrod.

‘Where did you find him?’ the older woman asked, her brow lifting.

‘At the foot of Mt Pelt. He sat waiting like a beggar.’

The Caller wrinkled her nose. ‘Came by the back door, did you, Jarrod?’ She laughed. ‘Brave of you.’

He shrugged, still smiling.

‘Noisome swamps, those,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how they tolerate them.’ She tossed her head towards Selene. ‘Disgusting place, don’t you think, dear?’

‘Agreed.’

Merriment fell from her face. ‘Did you go there alone, Selene?’

‘Shane MacVenton came too. He’s the…’

‘I remember him,’ the Caller said, cutting her off. She glanced behind Selene. ‘Where is he, then? You didn’t have to leave him on the steps, you know.’

‘I didn’t. I left him at the foot of Mt Pelt.’

‘What in the world for? Punishment?’ Waving to Selene to be silent, the Caller closed her eyes again. They popped open seconds later. ‘I see. That makes sense.’

Jarrod raised his eyebrows. The Caller appeared to be using her inner vision to scan the surrounding lands as easily as one might glance about a room. Impressive.

‘Go on, now.’ The Caller motioned Selene away. ‘But not too far. I want you to collect this one after
we’ve had a little chat. I’m sure he’ll need your assistance.’

If Selene was surprised at the dismissal, she didn’t show it. She left the room with only a nod, ignoring Jarrod. The Caller’s voice brought his attention back. ‘You said
we
followed the thread of your call. Not alone, then?’

‘I am accompanied by two others.’

‘Really? Where are they?’ She studied him as if they might suddenly jump out of his pockets.

‘I don’t know where they are, at this point.’

‘You lost them?’

‘Temporarily.’

‘Why in the world did you let that happen?’

‘It wasn’t intentional, I assure you. We were separated somewhere along the way.’

‘And you left Shane to wait?’

Jarrod parted his lips but didn’t respond. The Caller closed her eyes again, motioning to him to be silent.

Jarrod was uncertain whether she was immersed in the inner landscapes of her mind or searching further afield. That she had gone elsewhere was obvious, the withdrawal of her energy palpable. She disappeared, leaving her body like a place marker in a book. Jarrod suspected that she was scanning far beyond her own thoughts. He waited until she returned. Her eyes opened slowly, green gems reappearing. ‘That can’t be,’ she whispered.

Jarrod gave her a quizzical look.

‘Never mind. Your companions aren’t here. I’ve checked.’

‘With respect, Caller, I do mind. Can you tell me where they are, if not here on Tensar?’

‘I cannot.’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘They are beyond my sight.’

‘But you know something about it.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Can you please share it with me?’

She stared until he wanted to look away, a new sensation for him. ‘I’ll make you a deal.’ She smacked her lips. ‘You attend to my concerns first and then we’ll unravel yours.’

So that’s your game, is it? Hide and seek? You best hope you’re not the one who has hidden Rosette and Drayco from me.
‘Fair enough,’ he answered aloud, his voice smooth. ‘I came to help, if I can.’
I’ll play your game, as long as you play fair.

She didn’t respond to his mind speech; he had kept his shield up. There was more to this woman than she let on, he was certain of that. He crossed his arms. ‘How can I assist you, Caller?’

She glanced towards the entrance, holding out her hand for silence. ‘Not here.’

There were two guards standing sentinel, silhouettes in the afternoon light. Another pair stood at a side doorway, armed with polished wood javelins and metal blades. They were so still they looked to be carved from hardwood; smooth, refined and determined. A breeze wafted through the door, causing the red tassels on the javelins to dance, but nothing else moved, not even the rise and fall of the guards’ breath.

The Caller snapped her fingers, and one of the guards broke free. His heels clicked on the tile floor, tapping out a rhythm that echoed to the ceiling.

‘Escort this traveller to the tearoom, will you, Jayk? See that he’s comfortable.’ She turned to Jarrod. ‘I won’t be long.’

The guard bowed, then gave Jarrod a brief nod. ‘This way.’

Jarrod followed him through a side entrance and across a covered breezeway. It was lined with dwarf
palm trees in large clay pots and baskets of ferns hanging from the eaves, their long air roots nearly touching the ground. From this elevation he could see much of T’locity, a colourful city with clean, wide streets. They were dotted with yellow-flowering trees, branches reaching up to the red-tiled rooftops. An open-air market was buzzing with trade. The scent of leather, spices and timber floated towards him and in the distance he could see rugged, snowcapped mountains. It was a pleasant contrast to the black swamp in both landscape and aroma.

‘In here,’ the guard said, gesturing to a doorway.

The room had high windows and only the one visible door. The ceiling, like the main hall, was open-beamed, giving a spacious feel and keeping the air cool and fresh. The room was lavishly decorated with bright rugs, wall hangings and overstuffed pillows set around a low table. It felt comfortable, as if friends shared meals here—a surprise after the austere atmosphere of the receiving hall. He sat with his back to the wall and waited. The sentry waited as well.

The Caller entered from another door seamlessly embedded into the far wall. She sat opposite, motioning him closer.

‘Now we can talk,’ she whispered, though she turned abruptly away. ‘Organise us some tea and bread, will you, Jayk?’ She smiled at the guard, whose face held no expression. ‘Then back to your post. No one is to enter or leave until I return.’

‘Yes, Mistress.’ He bowed twice before closing the wooden door behind him; the sound of his steps faded as he strode away.

‘Finally. Do you ever weary of how long it takes to accomplish the simplest of tasks?’ she asked. Jarrod nodded as she kept talking, ‘Here’s the problem,’ she said, keeping her voice low as she fluffed the pillows
around herself. Oddly, she didn’t recline into the nest but leaned forward again. ‘We don’t have a lot of time.’

‘We don’t?’ Jarrod looked at her, waiting for a response. If there wasn’t much time, she certainly seemed to be wasting what little they had.

‘There are listeners everywhere,’ she continued, her voice barely audible.

At least you’re aware of it.
Jarrod had sensed a bevy of inquisitive minds ever since he had arrived. They were like mice trying to chew their way into a grain sack. ‘You mean spies here in your…’ He paused, lifting one shoulder. ‘Temple, is it?’

‘Palace,’ she corrected. ‘Spies, assassins, traitors, reporters. Every court has them—people seeking information that they shouldn’t have because others are paying, or forcing, them to do so. It’s all about information. Didn’t you know that?’

Jarrod repressed a chuckle. His whole existence had come about from the desire for information—more, faster, broader. His memories turned dark as he thought of the scientists at ASSIST all those centuries ago. ‘I’m familiar with the concept of information technology.’

‘Is that what you call it? You can understand, then, the need for discretion.’

‘Of course.’ He dropped his head close to her ear. ‘Can you tell me, Caller, what information it is we are discussing?’

‘I can.’ She spread her fingers out on the table. ‘These spies and reporters, they seek any word about our…’ She looked left and right before cupping her hand around the side of her mouth. ‘Dilemma.’

Was she going to talk in riddles all day? ‘Your dilemma?’ Jarrod said, matching her tone. ‘And what can you tell me about that, exactly?’ He sat back against his pillows, waiting.

The Caller clenched her jaw and motioned him closer. ‘Here on Tensar, we are experiencing a strange…problem.’

‘I gathered there was a problem, Caller. Otherwise I wouldn’t have come.’

She took a deep breath and let it spill out, her voice so low he had to amplify his auditory perceptions to catch it. ‘Here on Tensar, there are no more births,’ she whispered.

Jarrod wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. ‘No more births?’

‘Shush. Quiet.’ She looked around the room. ‘We’re denying it, of course, but the fact remains. There are no more births. None at all.’

‘Nothing is being born?’

She clicked her tongue. ‘Of course things are being born. Chickens, dogs, horses, snakes—animals are being born, hatched, whelped. Grass grows, trees bear fruit.’

‘But no children of Tensar?’

‘That’s it. No children.’

‘How long has this been going on?’

‘For over a year.’

Jarrod frowned. ‘Why?’

The Caller threw up her hands, her face going red. ‘If I knew that, I wouldn’t have troubled you!’ She shouted the words, suddenly unconcerned with discretion. He kept his eyes level with hers, but didn’t respond. She’d become preoccupied with smoothing her long scarves and he gave her a moment to compose herself. ‘That’s what you’re here for,’ she said in a natural tone. ‘To tell us why.’

He nodded and blinked his eyes, instantly computing the myriad possibilities. ‘I have some questions,’ he said.

‘Let’s hear them.’

‘Have your people been exposed to any toxins?’

‘That’s been checked. We have a self-sustaining agrarian culture, Jarrod. Everything is recycled and any toxic waste decomposed until it becomes inert.’

‘Have there been unusual meteorological events?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Weather changes, sunspots, meteor showers?’

She shook her head, her large amber earrings swinging wildly. ‘No more than usual.’

‘Have there been disease outbreaks in food animals?’

She screwed up her face. ‘What do you mean “food animals”?’

‘Animals reared for ingestion.’

‘Ingestion? Of course not. Repulsive!’ The thought threw her against the pillows. ‘Who would eat their friends and workmates?’

‘Customs do vary, Caller. In some worlds…’

‘It’s despicable. Barbaric.’

He took a deep breath and let it out. ‘Have there been any disease outbreaks in grain or fruit crops, then? In anything you do eat.’

‘Not that we’ve identified.’

‘Has there been an epidemic? An illness with high fevers? Infections?’

She banged her fist on the table. ‘Do you think I would miss the obvious? All these questions have been considered long ago.’

‘I need to be thorough, Caller. Please bear with me.’

She nodded. ‘Continue.’

‘What about morale? Are the people stressed? Worried? Is there an asteroid about to impact, the seas rising, population explosion, climate change?’

‘Nothing like that.’

Jarrod tilted his head, raising one eyebrow. ‘Are your people having sex?’

She frowned for a moment, the question not seeming to register. She was about to comment when a tap sounded at the door. ‘Enter,’ she said. Her face shifted like a spring breeze and she smiled at the girl entering the room.

She was dressed in a patchwork skirt and an embroidered top, her long, hair twisted high on top of her head. She carried a serving tray in both hands. The scent of mint, apple blossom and cinnamon wafted about her, and something else that reminded Jarrod of roast pumpkin pie. His mouth watered as she set the tray down between them.

‘Thank you, Lila,’ the Caller said, dismissing her when she asked if anything else was required. The girl didn’t move but eyed Jarrod with a lush smile. ‘Go, Lila. That’s all.’ The Caller snapped her fingers and the girl backed out of the room, her eyes still resting on Jarrod. ‘What were you saying?’ She glanced at the door as she served him. She poured his tea and offered bread, warm to the touch. There were dips in little porcelain pots—orange marmalade, red chutney and a deep purple jam.

‘I was asking if your people were interested in sex.’

After taking a few sips of tea, the Caller raised her eyebrows. ‘What do you think?’ She nodded towards the place where Lila had stood.

‘It would appear so,’ he said. ‘It’s just one possibility.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Are there any belief systems in place that forbid it?’

The Caller tapped her chin with a gnarly finger. ‘Sex has never been taboo on Tensar, regardless of shifting religions, cults and factions, though I’ve heard of it in other cultures.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘What kind of god would place a hex on intimacy?’

You’d be surprised.
‘Only one against nature,’ he said aloud.

‘Well, that’s not happening here.’

‘You’re certain?’

‘Completely.’

Jarrod shook his head as she offered him more bread. He shut his eyes and calculated the probable causes of this situation from a database of infinite possibilities, cross-referenced with an immeasurable number of realities. In less than a
femtosecond
—a fraction equal to the difference between one second and thirty-two million years—he opened his eyes again.

‘My first thought is that souls aren’t coming through,’ he said, a little dizzy from the quantum journey. ‘That’s my best guess at this point.’

‘Explain.’

‘The most likely cause of cessation of births in this world is lack of available souls for incarnation. There is a safety measure in place, you know—otherwise there’d be billions of rudderless ships, as it were.’