Thought of one woman made him think of another. "What about Greenwillow?"
"Greenwillow…" Sunbright breathed the name as if it contained his soul, "… I don't know. We're so far out of our time-"
"Have you thought of returning?"
The barbarian jerked, dropped his filthy napkin.
"Is that possible?"
Candlemas had surprised himself again.
"Well," the pudgy mage answered, "it just popped into my head. I don't know… Karsus brought us here with a chronoma-a time travel spell. I'd heard stories about the concept, everyone had, but never seen or read of it done. Yet he seemed to do it on a whim, so it must be doable. What I don't know is: can I do it?"
"Or get Karsus to do it?" Sunbright offered. "Or show you how?"
The mage rubbed his bald head, rose, and paced. "I don't even know if Karsus even knows anymore how he did it. Half his magic is instinctual. He simply imagines a spell and it happens. They say he could firefinger-a cantra-at age two. At twenty-two, he was the youngest archwizard ever, and now he's three hundred and something!"
Sunbright squinted. He'd known that mages lengthened their lives magically, but hadn't realized how much. To him, and his people, sixty years old was ancient.
Candlemas continued to pace in bare feet. "If I could convince Karsus," he thought aloud, "-if I could get near him-I might be able to learn the spell. Might… their magic is so advanced here, I should be lucky to scrub tables."
Sunbright nodded, for the first time realizing how tough Candlemas actually had it. In a way, he was a barbarian among mages.
"But you could learn it? And send us back-"
"Us?" Candlemas stopped him. "I don't want to go back!"
"You don't? Why? If you're an ignorant peasant here and an important man back there? And this empire's going to crash around your ears. What's keeping you here?"
Candlemas wouldn't answer, though her name was on his tongue. Aquesita. Even her name was heavenly.
"Never mind. I'll try to learn the spell, and well work out a way to stay in touch. In the meantime, I can get you down to the ground. I think."
"We don't want to go to the ground," retorted a low voice.
The men turned, startled. Knucklebones had opened and shut the door and walked up behind Candlemas without either of the two men noticing. A bulging sack hung over one slim shoulder. She set it down with a chink.
Sunbright nodded. "What's in there?"
"Nothing that'll be missed, much. We're not going down to the ground. You can go by yourself."
"We've decided this already," Sunbright sighed. "On the way here. You said the city is making a special effort to kill you, or me, or both of us, though we don't know why. It won't be safe anywhere. We must get down-"
"I can buy us safety for months with this." She cut him off, then nudged the bag with her bare toe. "Go without us. We wouldn't like it in the wilds. We're used to the city."
"Used to the city?" Sunbright's voice rose. "Living in tunnels like rats? I can find us a friendly village, maybe even the descendants of the Rengarth. Or we could build a cabin, let the children run free in the woods, teach them to swim in mountain pools, see they eat good, healthy red meat and grain still warm from the fields."
Knucklebones didn't answer. At the bed, she pulled back the covers and roused the children. Still more asleep than awake they nevertheless rolled out of bed and picked up their meager belongings. The thief opened a carved chest against one wall, pulled out expensive and ornate clothing that had been hand stitched to Candlemas's measurements. Summoning the sleepy children, she stripped each of their dirty old rags and fitted them with warm, serviceable clothing, the many folds of cloth tucked and belted. Seeing they'd picked up their dolls and satchels again, she retrieved her sack of hard currency and, without a word, slipped out the door, leading the four children by the hand.
Sunbright shrugged his heavy shoulder scabbard and belt into place and grabbed up a last loaf. "I go with them. We'll come back once she thinks it's safe-and we've worked out our differences."
But Candlemas, who didn't believe in omens, had a sudden premonition of disaster. Maybe it was the black night, maybe the wine, but he worried. "Wait!" he called, "Take something so I can find you."
Sunbright stood in the doorway. "Make it fast. Knucklebones could outrun a reindeer on the flats."
Frantic, Candlemas cast about, finally reached behind his ear and ripped loose a tuft of his meager hair. He closed it in the barbarian's palm. "Burn that if you need me. Then get up high somewhere."
Sunbright nodded, and with his belt knife, cut a lock of hair so blond it was almost white. Handing it to Candlemas, a strange wistful look crossed his face. He shot out a massive, scarred, and calloused hand, and gave the mage a squeeze that bruised the skin, whispering, "Thank you, friend."
Then he was gone, and Candlemas was left alone to wonder about many things, but about himself most of all.
Knucklebones made three turns in the dark, then ordered Sunbright to break an inside shutter. They slipped through the window into a garden. The barbarian was amazed at her ability to track inside, in the dark. He couldn't have found his way outside in an hour, and she'd chosen a different route from the one through which they'd entered.
Along a path under dark trees they tripped, Sunbright the noisiest one in his moosehide soles, which were wearing thin with all this pavement walking. The tundra dweller knew only that they tended downhill until he looked up at the stars. Bad enough to be floating in the air, but the entire island revolved ever so slowly, constantly confusing his sense of direction. But the stars at least were fixed, though this was a southern sky. The Sled and Cappi's Cat were stretched lengthwise along the northern horizon.
Knucklebones and the children had disappeared around a corner. The stargazer had to trot to catch up. He found Knucklebones perched like an alley cat between the spears of a wrought iron fence. She reached down and caught the children by the scruff to haul them over. Sunbright admired her quiet strength, her calm poise. He grabbed the spears to vault up and over, but she stiffened, sniffing the air.
Abruptly she pushed Sunbright back down, then hissed to the children as she handed them the loot sack, "Get to Sleeping Gunn! He'll take you in." Then she hopped down beside Sunbright, snagged his vest front, and led him along the fence to a globe-lit corner.
He asked, "Why are we going where it's light?"
"Lead them away from the children!"
Without pause, she dashed across the street into an alley. "Pull that hammer," she whispered. "We'll need it."
"Who's coming?" he asked. Her tension was catching.
She vaulted a puddle that Sunbright splashed through.
"Trackers!" she breathed. "Rushworth and Pericles's crowd!"
Sunbright hadn't seen or heard anyone. He could see even less in this black alley. He started to whisper, "How did you-"
"They've a special soap they wash in to remove human scent. But nonhumans can smell the soap."
She ducked down an alley just as dark as the first and up three long steps. Sunbright could barely keep from falling. She was fleet and nimble as a deer, and with only one eye, he marveled.
He ran into her thin, bony arm, blocking his path.
"In here."
She jerked open a door and they passed within. Sunbright smelled polished wood and dust, books, a trace of food grease. It was no combination he knew. "Where are we?"
"Academy of Mentalist Study. A college. It's always open, but they'll know that too. Suck in your gut!"
"Who? Why?"
As they edged around a wooden corner, Sunbright felt bile burp at the back of his throat. His head felt empty, as if he'd suddenly been hung upside down again. He could tell from barely audible echoes that the room was large, and they were not alone. Knucklebones was counting shelves as they passed.