CHAPTER FIVE
The third time, trying to remember how fast he’d chased Sorcha around the ring when he was twenty years younger, and finding that it took more effort to achieve that speed than he remembered, his panting turned to gasps when he touched the rock and found that it was no more material than air.
He stepped through the rock as if it wasn’t there, but once on the other side thought his mind was playing tricks on him.
Because nothing was changed.
The sky was threatening to shower, just as it had been. The plain was deserted, just as it had been. Purple foxgloves were dancing in the occasional waft of breeze, just as they had been. Dejected that his experiment had failed, he walked back to the spot where he’d sat down to wait for Rosie’s return and took up his post, deciding that he would never tell a soul that he’d been foolish enough to think he could find his own way to another world.
When an hour passed, he began to wonder why the whister hadn’t arrived. For that matter, he had expected Rosie to be back sooner. He looked at his watch, but no time had passed. He thought that strange, but concluded, again, that his mind was playing tricks on him.
He pulled his phone from his pocket to check messages and found the black screen of death. There was no response to an attempt to reboot. The device was stone cold dead.
At dinner time, he was feeling worried, hungry, and thirsty. He reasoned that if Rosie’s tracking skills were keen enough to locate someone in another dimension, she shouldn’t have much trouble finding him if he wandered off to hunt down something to eat. So Simon began walking south.
He crossed the plain, climbed a rise, and saw cattle grazing in the distance. Reasoning that he could find someone who’d point him in the direction of food, he walked that way. His shoes were designed more for office wear than hiking cross country and were more fashionable than functional in a rugged way, but they were passably comfortable.
Keeping up a steady pace, he could see the cattle that had been in the distance more clearly with every step he took in their direction. He squinted his eyes because something was off. The shape of their bodies. The shape of their horns, maybe.
He continued to put one foot in front of the other until the truth of what he was seeing was inescapable. The animals were not cattle. They were Hebridean sheep that were the size of cattle. The multiple sets of horns, that seemed like a fetching curiosity on a small breed of sheep, looked ominous on animals as large as cattle.
As he approached, some of them lifted their heads and observed his proximity with eyes that looked more intelligent than the smaller variety he’d seen before. He wondered why he’d been unaware of an effort by breeders to dramatically increase the size of Hebrideans. It hadn’t been that long since he’d visited the north.
He saw a farmhouse with smoke coming from the chimney and hoped the sheep would let him pass so he could inquire about the closest place to find food. Three Border Collies trotted over to say hello as he neared the door. He gave each of them a brief rub behind the ears before proceeding. The aroma coming from the cabin was heavenly and his mouth began watering. Literally.
An elderly fae opened the door and stood waiting for Simon to state his business.
“Good evening,” Simon said.
“Huh!” The fae said. Over his shoulder, he shouted, “Human,” to someone in the house.
Simon heard a feminine voice, but couldn’t understand what was said.
The fae turned back to Simon.
“I’ve been separated from my companions. We were, ah, sightseeing at the ring. I was wondering where would be the closest place to get dinner.”
The fae turned and shouted over his shoulder again. “Wants dinner.” After appearing to listen to a reply, the fae turned back to Simon. “You got money?”
Simon blinked rapidly. He wasn’t sure whether he did or not. He so rarely needed money, he didn’t think to keep a supply on hand. He fished out his wallet, opened it, and said, “Yes. Some. Bank of Scotland notes.”
The fae nodded. “Good enough. We’re havin’ buffalo and potatoes. How’s that?”
“That’s, ah, very nice. I don’t want to put you out.”
“If you pay me, you will no’ be puttin’ me out then, will you?”
“I suppose not.”
“What’s it worth to you?”
At that point, Simon was getting over his surprise at the strange exchange and getting into the spirit of the transaction. “I suppose that depends on how good it is. And whether or not you’re serving wine.”
The fae’s eyes crinkled in humor at the challenge. “Wine. Nay. Red ale is what we’re havin’. And ’tis good enough for human, I’ll tell ye that.”
“And what else are you serving? Besides buffalo and potatoes?”
“Garden greens. Fresh baked bread. Bread puddin’.”
“Three pounds.”
The fae laughed then shouted over his shoulder, “Says he’ll give ye three pounds.” He listened then said, “Ten,” to Simon.
Simon looked at his wallet again. He had almost two hundred pounds, but didn’t want to appear to be a pushover. “Five.”
The fae opened the door wide. “Come in. We’re happy to have you for dinner.”
Simon nodded and stepped inside. The house was simple, but clean and cozy. Two more Border Collies came to greet him like he was an old friend.
“This way,” the man said as he walked away. “I’m Angus.”
In just a few steps they arrived in the kitchen. It was the largest room in the house, with a roughhewn dining table in the center of the room, already set for three.
“’Tis Colleen,” he said, motioning to a much younger fae. “My daughter. Visitin’ from king’s town she is.”
Colleen smiled. “From Edinburgh is what he means.” She was fresh-faced and pretty. A strawberry blonde with freckles on her nose, but she had a city girl’s sophisticated air.
“Do no’ normally eat like this,” the fae said. “You happened by on the right evenin’. No’ so much for cookin’ myself. But my lass is a famous chef in the city.”
She shook her head. “I’m only famous in his own mind. I do work as a chef, but ’tis where the similarity to the truth ends. With my da you’ll find there’s frequently a discrepancy between the truth and his version of it. And, by the way, he was just kiddin’ about chargin’ you for dinner,” she said.
Simon looked at Angus. “He was?”
“O’ course.”
Angus laughed like he’d pulled off the best practical joke imaginable.
They chatted amiably during dinner, a repast Simon would be unlikely to forget.
“Colleen, if your father is wrong about you being famous, it’s only because he’s a visionary ahead of his time. You surely will be. Because this is marvelous.”
She blushed a charming and sincerely humble pink. “Thank you.”
“Where did you get the buffalo?” Simon asked.
“Neighbor of mine raises them. Gave it in trade for puppies.” Angus pointed behind him with a thumb. “Just had a litter divided up. This is the mama lookin’ a little lost.” One of the dogs ran over to Angus and seemed to commune with him silently while he cupped the bridge of her nose affectionately.
“I’d like to ask about your sheep. They’re quite large.”
Angus looked confused. “Large? I’ve no’ noticed they’re particularly larger than other sheep.” He gave Colleen a pointed look like he was confused by the question.
“What do you think happened to your friends?” Colleen asked.
“Probably just a misunderstanding about where we were to meet,” Simon replied without missing a beat.
“I’m headed back tomorrow,” Colleen said. “I can give you a ride as far as Edinburgh if you like.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Simon said.
“You can sleep on that sofa over there,” Angus said. “I’ll throw you a blanket.”
“That’s even kinder of you,” Simon said before pulling out his phone. “I’m not getting cell service. Do you have phone service here?”
Colleen held out her hand, asking to see the phone. “I’ve ne’er seen one like this,” she said.
“You haven’t?” he asked, thinking that his phone was the most popular brand on the market.
Even before she produced the brick-sized phone she called her ‘portable’, Simon was starting to put it together.
The cow-sized sheep.
The non-existent phone service.
He’d walked into another world, so similar to his own that the differences were practically subtle. His first reaction was a moment of panic. His second reaction, which was processed with lightning speed in the ultimate computer of his brain, was that Sorcha may have survived. He might dare to think that she probably survived. And, if so, where would she have gone?
The answer was conclusive and immediate. Edinburgh.
“Now let’s talk about how much it’s worth to you to have a sofa to sleep on tonight,” Angus said.
“Da. Will you quit? The human is stayin’ free of charge.” Turning to Simon, she said, “With the ferries, it’ll take over eight hours. So I’d like to start by seven.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“You know how to drive?”
“I do.”
“Good. You can help then.”
Simon helped with dishes. Angus went to bed soon after dinner, but Colleen stayed up a while and talked about the ring, all the stories people told about it and how none of them ever seemed to quite ring true. They both laughed at her pun.
She said goodnight to the dogs and retired.
The drive to Edinburgh was a revelation. So much was familiar and unchanged, but there were anomalies, like the cattle-sized sheep, that were a constant reminder he was no longer in his world. He had no idea where to begin looking for Sorcha, but thought that since the university had been her home, he might find her there.
He paid for petrol twice and lunch once. Said it was the least he could do. And asked Colleen to drop him at the university.
“I work at The Grooved Horn if you ever want to look me up,” she said.
He thanked her and waved goodbye before turning to stare at the campus grounds, wondering where to start. He finally decided on the administration building.
“Who teaches myths?” he asked.
“Well,” the woman said, “that would either be Literature or Classical Studies.”
“Classical Studies. Where would I find that?”
She gave him a map and directions to the office of the head of the department, which he found without issue. But no one was there. The door was closed and locked. A sign posted next to the door gave hours. According to the sign they should be open.
He stopped someone. “Excuse me. Isn’t this office supposed to be open?”
“No’ today,” he said, pointing to the sign. “Closed on Monday.”
“But today’s Tuesday.”
“No. Today’s Monday,” the fellow said.
“Thank you.”
Simon leaned against the wall. He and Rosie began the day before, which was Monday. He was sure of it. He’d spent the night, which meant today had to be Tuesday if sanity served him.
Looking around he could see that the halls were clearing out. Classes were over. Staff was going home.
He decided to get a hotel room and come back the next morning, but his curiosity about Black Swan Headquarters was compelling him to go there and check it out first.
It was an easy fifteen minute walk and, since he’d been in a car all day, the exercise was welcome. What he found there was not.
The Black Swan building belonged to Lloyds Banking Group. He didn’t know why that bothered him. It wasn’t his world and it began to dawn on him how hard it would have been for Sorcha if the exact same thing had happened to her.