CHAPTER NINETEEN #2
It’s odd being lectured by a child, but I deserve it.
After all, this is the hand I dealt us, but it’s become everyone’s issue.
I feel beyond horrible, the worst I ever have, but I yank myself together, sitting next to Valentin.
Behind us, Ender whispers, “I’m sorry, Beam,” in a low voice.
I tune out the rest of their conversation.
“Are you upset with me too?” I ask Valentin. “You’re here because of me.”
That much is obvious now. I’ve bent time’s planes towards me, and the carousel’s attempts to rectify my errors snatched Valentin from her home.
I try to imagine how Nova would react. She was always the more impulsive of us, the picture of “going with the flow”.
This would be a grand adventure to her and, despite Everest’s condition and my mistakes, she would likely laugh at my question, pat me on the back and tell me not to take things so seriously.
Sometimes, I’d find it frustrating, but I could use her unconditional support and optimism right now.
Valentin’s expression is one of deep contemplation.
“It’s been the most terrifying experience of my life, but also some of the most illuminating.
It sounds weird to say, but I have a hard time bogging myself down about how things play out in my life.
We’re all a set of bowling pins, you know?
Sometimes one well-aimed blow takes all of us out, and that’s just how it is.
You happened to knock several people down. ”
“That sounds like you’re mad,” I tell her, but she’s smiling at me.
“We can all get back up again for the next round.”
It’s so strange. I can hear Nova’s influence, see the fingerprints of her parenting all over Valentin, but her reaction is uniquely her own. More steadying and thought out.
Keshav walks in, then, Quill in his hands.
“Oh, thank god,” I say, helping him set her down. I demanded he move her from the archives, something she doesn’t tend to respond well to, but I’m not leaving Everest’s side right now.
Don’t thank anyone so quickly, not after you ratted me out, Quill says, sounding more than a little miffed.
She and Keshav must have had quite the talk.
Not to mention the rest of this mess. All the shelves in the archives are on the ground!
Cillian’s been trying to eat rare books, and all my energy has been expended trying to keep him busy. And–
“I’m sorry, Quill.” I’m ready to include her in my apology tour, but I’m unable to string together a coherent sentence when I look at Everest. I keep expecting his eyes to fly open, for him to smile in the exact way that makes me want to strangle him and kiss him at the same time.
“I can’t think…I don’t know what to do…”
Quill is quiet as I try to compose myself.
I know that I need to return all the things that I’ve taken, but that concern has become a secondary shadow.
I inhale and look away from Everest. Exhale and push away every intrusive thought telling me that he’s gone forever.
He’s immortal, and I’ve learned the hard way that despite centuries of experience, I only possess a drop of true knowledge.
There is a solution here, and I’m going to find it.
How is he doing? Quill asks.
“Valentin says his breathing is steady, no fever, no symptoms she can detect.”
Except that he’s in some sort of a coma with rot up his arms.
And the carousel?
“I don’t care about that right now.”
They are connected.
“I know that, so I’m hoping once we heal him, the carousel will fix itself as well,” I say firmly. “Keshav said you haven’t been able to find any records of this?”
No, nothing like this. The time god has not been ill in recent memory.
I groan, resting my head on Quill. When she doesn’t immediately tell me to ‘get your sweaty hair off my parchment’, I realize how distraught I must look.
No answers – we’re here with a locked carousel, scrambled timelines, a sick time god, and countless trinkets that I’ve stolen from dimensions. We have no answers here. No way out.
Unless…
“You said ‘in recent memory’.” I sit up straight. “But Everest is older than you.”
Are you patronizing me? Quill huffs.
“No, but there are others who are as old, who have known him longer,” I say.
Keshav gasps.
“Who?” Valentin asks.
“His siblings,” I reply. “The others. We need to find a way to get them here immediately.”
I’m getting myself worked up from the idea when Quill says, They won’t come.
My heart stutters. “What do you mean?”
Valentin’s face screws with confusion. Keshav rubs his temples and says, “They’ve never visited. Not during your reign as keeper, not during Geneva’s, either.”
“He also hasn’t looked like this,” I say, gesturing wildly at Everest’s body. “Have they even heard? Surely, if they knew, they would–”
They do know, Quill says, resigned. Her leather covers lose a bit of their tension, slackening under my weight. I informed them the moment it happened.
“What did they say?” I demand.
“You can talk to them?” Valentin whispers after Keshav gives her a summary of our conversation. The ghost ushers her to Quill so she can hear the tome’s response herself.
Did you think I’m the only Quill? Quill says. They each have one of us, in their own archives. We’re their means of communication. Or, well, they do not communicate with one another, but we keep each other appraised of important events. It is in the name of record-keeping, and occasionally, gossip.
“Tell me what they said, Quill,” I repeat, trying to keep my voice even.
They didn’t say much, Quill says. When I heard back, there weren’t any questions about Everest or his wellbeing.
I tried to ask and see if anyone knew the cause of his condition or how to cure him.
Most Quills were sympathetic, but some are downright nasty.
I’m sure they’re holding out on me. The one with Cyrus is particularly–
“They didn’t even ask about him,” I repeat, gritting my teeth.
It’s becoming more difficult to see through the angry tears clouding my vision.
I’m thinking of all the times Everest and I have talked about our families, the ache he’s tried to disguise at their absence in his life.
For some reason, I still thought that something like this would draw them to his side.
I can’t fathom their behavior, not when their brother is so far from the cold caricatures they’ve become in my mind.
If it was me or Ender or Beam on that bed, I know he would tear this place apart to find help.
They don’t deserve him, and if I had a chance to speak to one of them, I would readily tell them as much.
They were more concerned about the carousel, Quill says. I got more questions about that. I provided descriptions of the rot, told them about our experiments.
“Bet they loved that,” I seethe.
They were not pleased, Quill says. I also told them about the static of time when anyone tries to go near it. They were noticeably bothered by that. Asked me to keep them up to date on the matter, and to make sure no one attempts anything foolish.
An idea pops up in my mind, so vivid that Quill hears it screamed into her mind.
Now just you wait, Quill says, growing frantic. I did not tell you that so–
“I’m sorry, Quill,” I say, a little giddy, a whole lot mad. “But if the gods don’t listen to polite summons, then they’re going to have to deal with my wrath.”