She waved her tail in agreement, meanwhile watching the ehhif closely for any signs that he was about to go shocky again.
“Mr…—Illingworth,” said Auhlae after a moment, as the light of the circle grew and the ehhif looked around him, “please don’t believe this a trick. It is something out of your experience, though. Perhaps you would prefer to think of it as a dream. Do you mind if we ask you some questions?”
The ehhif looked around at the circle, and the cat inside it with him, its paws thrust into the glowing webwork which the circle surrounded, and the four other cats outside: and he blinked. “I suppose not, but where are you? And how do you know my name?”
“Please don’t bother looking for any other humans, because you’ll see none here,” Auhlae said. “Just pretend, if you will, that the cats are speaking to you.”
“But how do you know my name?” the ehhif demanded, more urgently now. “Is it—is this some kind of plot—”
Through the spell, Rhiow could feel the ehhif’s blood pressure beginning to spike. She watched it carefully, and felt down the spell for indications of any sudden physical movement: there were too many ways he could damage himself, physically and nonphysically, if he tried to break out of the circle before it was correctly disassembled.
“It’s no plot,” Auhlae said, “though I wouldn’t mind hearing why you would think it was one.”
The ehhif looked around him, still trying to find the source of the voice which spoke to him: and now he started to look suspicious. “There are plots everywhere these days,” he said, and his voice sounded unusually troubled. “Everything used to seem so safe once … but now nothing is what it seems—”
His blood pressure spiked again with his anxiety, and Rhiow could feel his muscles getting ready for a jump. Better not, she thought, and spoke briefly to his adrenal glands through the spell. They obligingly stopped the chemical process which was already producing adrenaline, and instead produced a quick jolt of endorphins that left Mr. Illingworth blinking in slightly buzzed bemusement, and much less prepared to get up and run anywhere. Rhiow was ready to lock his muscles immobile if she had to, but she preferred less invasive and energy-intensive measures to start with.
“How do you mean?” Auhlae said.
“The war,” said Mr… Illingworth, and now his voice started to sound mournful. “What use in being the mightiest nation on the globe when we must be bombed for the privilege? There was a time when no one dared lift a hand to us. But now our enemies have gathered together and grown bold, and London itself is prey …”
At that Auhlae looked sharply at Fhrio. Fhrio’s eyes were wide. Bombed? he said silently, to her and the others. London hasn’t been bombed for fifty years.
“When did this start?” Auhlae said, and for all her attempts to keep her voice soothing, her alarm came through.
“A year or so ago,” said Mr… Illingworth wearily. “There were troubles before then … but nothing like the crisis we face now.” And much to Rhiow’s surprise, the ehhif put his face down in his hands. “Not since the Queen died …”
The Queen? Urruah said then, pausing in his work with the gate. What’s he talking about?
“ ‘The Queen’? Which queen?” Auhlae said.
The ehhiflooked up again, and looked around him with a much less fuzzy air: Rhiow felt his blood pressure start spiking again. “How can you not know about the great tragedy,” Mr… Illingworth said, “for which a whole nation mourns, and at which the whole world looked on amazed? Only spies would pretend not to know how the Queen-Empress was assassinated, treacherously killed by—” He started to struggle to his feet.
Rhiow clamped the spell down on him, shorting out the neurotransmitter chemistry servicing his voluntary musculature, but being careful to avoid his lungs. Still the ehhif gasped, though he couldn’t struggle, and his fear began to grow. “Let me go!’ he said loudly, and then started to shout, “Spies! Traitors! Let me go! Police!”
The sound of that cry could be kept from being heard, of course, but Rhiow had other concerns. Auhlae, she said silently, there’s no point in this. It takes doing for an ehhif to frighten itself to death, but this one’s pretty emotionally labile: he might be able to do it. And he’s been under a lot of stress—
You’re right, Auhlae said. Better put him to sleep.
Rhiow reached into the spell and spoke to the ehhif’s brain chemistry. A moment later his eyes closed, and his head sagged slightly, though he did not move otherwise: she kept the hold on his muscles, just for safety’s sake.
“ ‘Bombed’?” Urruah said then.
“One moment,” Rhiow said. “Urruah, how’s the gate?”
“Locked open but nonpatent, like Auhlae said.”
“Have you got a time fix on the opening?”
“Not yet. The congruency with our present timeframe is not one-to-one, Rhi. The spatiotemporal coordinate readings I’m getting at the moment are not meshing in direct line with our own.” Rhiow twitched at the sound of that, for she thought she knew what he meant … and she didn’t like it. “Additionally, I think something’s been fretting at the gate from the other side while it’s been doing these ‘rogue’ openings … unraveling it. The unraveling’s been starting to manifest itself on this side now …” He put his whiskers back. “And I’m almost afraid to fix it. That might warn whoever’s doing the unraveling, send them under cover …”
I’d wait and talk to Huff about it, Rhiow said silently to him. This is getting to be a jurisdictional matter, and I don’t want to … She glanced in Fhrio’s direction.
Understood, Urruah said. But if something sudden happens, we’re going to have to intervene in the situation’s best interest, no matter what local opinion might be…
Rhiow waved her tail in agreement, though the prospect made her nervous: Urruah went back to “reading” the gate, letting the information in the string configuration sing down through his claws and into his nerves and brain. “Auhlae,” Rhiow said aloud, “you managed enough rapport with him to get a name: could you get in there and find out more?”
Auhlae shook herself. “Names are easy,” she said, somewhat distressed. “They’re so near the surface, in any sentient being. But abstract information is a lot harder to get at, out of species. You know how ehhif minds look and feel inside: the imagery’s all wrong, the language is bizarre and the mindset is stranger still … I’m no expert in ehhif psychologies: I’ll get lost in there as readily as anyone else. And anyway, I can’t do anything useful while our Mr… Illingworth’s unconscious. If he was conscious, I could go in, all right, but I couldn’t be sure I was getting the information absolutely correct. And if we’re hearing from this ehhif what I think we’re hearing—”
“If you think you’re hearing evidence of an alternate timeline,” Urruah said, “then I think you’re right. Leaving aside all the other things he mentioned, most of which I don’t understand, I do know that London hasn’t been bombed recently … and it certainly was never bombed when ehhif wore clothes like that.”
Rhiow suddenly became aware of Arhu looking over her shoulder, most intently, at Illingworth. “He’s the unravelling,” Arhu said softly. “Or a symptom of it: concrete rather than abstract. It’s not a process that’s finished yet. But if something’s not done soon …”