Wayfarer

“This wasn’t part of the original timeline?” Julian clarified, just as softly. “I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t be sure. There were so many changes when Grandfather went to war with the families.”

“No,” Octavia said. “I wouldn’t have stayed. I wouldn’t have…let children…let anyone die…I wouldn’t have let this happen.”

Etta’s heart froze in her chest, seizing painfully. If Octavia thought—believed—that she could have prevented this, or at least saved herself, then that meant…

She’d had it wrong. Etta had assumed that guardians, unlike travelers, wouldn’t be able to recognize when the timeline shifted—that they would simply be carried forward, their lives and memories adjusted, blissfully unaware that their lives had ever been different. But that wasn’t the case at all. The Ironwood guardians, in service to the old man, would know how things were meant to play out. If they survived the changes, they would know the timeline had been altered, and live out its consequences. Etta was almost breathless with the unspeakable cruelty of it. These people were born into this hidden world, yet were as much at its mercy as a normal man or woman. Only, they would know when something was lost, and when there was a reason to be afraid.

“I know, Nan,” Julian said, cupping her hand between his. “You would have saved the whole damn city if you knew.”

“You didn’t know, either…so why…why come?” Octavia asked, turning her head to better look at him.

“Because I needed to find out a few things,” Julian said, lying just a little, “and you’re the only person I trust.”

Another painful smile as her burned skin pulled beneath her bandages. “Tell me. But—she goes.”

“Nan,” Julian cajoled. “Etta’s not like her mother. She wasn’t even told she was one of us until last month. If you hold her mother against her, you’ll have to hold my father against me.”

“Her mother was the reason for your father’s change…for his cruelty. She created it in him—”

“Let’s not—” Julian cut her off, then cringed. “She didn’t make him who he was, she only released what was already inside of him, waiting to be let out. Let’s just…I only meant that we’re trying to find out what’s been happening with the family. Grandfather has been trying to track down his old obsession again, and now we need to find him.”

The candlelight drew deep shadows across Julian’s face as he leaned forward, searching Octavia’s face. He shifted uncomfortably, and the creaking of the chair cut through the murmur of life and death in the makeshift ward.

She won’t talk until I leave, Etta realized. But she wasn’t about to step outside and rely solely on Julian relaying the complete picture to her.

“Easy, Nan,” Julian said. “This one’s all right. Vetted her myself, otherwise I wouldn’t have brought her to you.”

She clearly had some doubts about his judgment, but let this pass.

“Be careful…won’t you? He’s been…traveling again. Came here only days ago…called a family meeting. Don’t let him…find you,” Octavia said, fixing her gaze back on Julian.

“Him?” Julian repeated. “Grandpops? Why? The old man moves once every two decades at best.”

“If I tell you…” Octavia blew out a long, wheezing sigh. “What trouble…will you find yourself in?”

“The good kind,” Julian promised her. “The kind that makes you proud of me, even as you put me in the naughty corner.”

The sound that came out of her must have been a laugh, though it was painful to hear. “There’s…an auction. Came through…the family lines. He came to take…the gold from his vault here. Buy-in.”

“An auction?” Julian repeated, glancing at Etta. “Did he say what for?”

“Is there anything else…he could want…so desperately?”

The astrolabe.

“He doesn’t already have it?” Etta asked. Who had taken it from Kadir in the palace, then?

Julian must have had a similar thought, but arrived at an actual guess. “The Belladonna. I should have known the blasted thing would turn up with her. She must have sent one of her minions to steal it, or one of Grandpop’s men went rogue and brought it to her for a fee. Do you know the location of the auction? The year?”

Octavia shook her head, and Etta felt herself deflate. The old woman grabbed Julian’s hand, holding him in place. “Leave…go back. As far…back as you can.”

“I’ve got a few things to do first,” he told her, “but I will. In time.”

“No—Julian, the Shadows—even guardians hear whispers of such—of such things—murders—”

“Shadows?” Julian’s brow creased. “Are you trying to be funny with me, Nan?”

Despite her condition, she leveled him with a look perfected by years as a nanny.

“You also told me my hair was going to fall out if I didn’t stop eating sweets, so forgive me if I doubt the story about the creatures who snatch naughty traveler children in the night.”

“What are you talking about?” Etta asked, looking between them.

“You know, the one your mother gently traumatized you with from a young age—about people who live in shadows and steal little traveler children who don’t follow the rules?” He rubbed at the stubble on his chin, and Etta wondered why everything he ever did made it seem like he was posing. “Huh. You don’t know. Oh! Right. Your terror of a mother kept everything secret, et cetera. Have to say, this is the first time I’ve been jealous of you. From the shadows they come…”