Chapter 61
Startled, I glance back and see she’s worked the gag out of her mouth. The guards haven’t seen, because she’s slumped behind us, out of their line of sight.
Mary shoots me a furious glare. Cursing myself, I turn back to the fore and hope no one noticed my movement.
“This is what happens when you rely too much on sorcery,” she goes on when it seems no one caught my slip. “Wait until they’re distracted.”
Helen parts her lips, as if about to demand what Mary has planned, then presses them back together.
I can’t imagine what Mary has up her sleeve, but anything is better than just waiting to die.
The light streaming through the hole in the cave’s ceiling turns golden, then slowly fades. No doubt the stars that Bianca and I saw are coming out.
It won’t be long now.
More people arrive, none of whom I recognize, and take their seats at the table alongside Vitali and Hart.
All of them pause to speak to the member of the Swarm standing by the machine at the head of their gathering.
Mostly they offer mundane greetings, but the last, a man who looks almost as old as Hart, asks it, “How many of your order will be joining us, Shepherd Willis?”
“Many,” it replies through the mouth of the unfortunate woman whose body it inhabits. “Too many for this cavern to hold.”
He seems taken aback. “And…all sorcerers like yourself?”
“All devotees of the great god Mithras, driven into hiding by small-minded men who would rather slay us than benefit from our knowledge.” The creature gives him a smile that’s only somewhat stilted.
Perhaps it’s had time to practice being human.
“Have no fear. We owe you our lives and understand you are the ones who hold the power in this era. We merely wish to survive.”
So that’s the tale they gave the Timekeepers—that they’re human sorcerers from the past, unjustly persecuted, who only wish to share their knowledge with the cult. Greed and the lust for power did the rest of the work for them.
“Everyone’s here.” Vitali looks down the twin rows of tables, their seats now filled. “I say we quit yapping and get this show on the road.”
Behind me, Mary lets out a gasp of pain. I glance at the guards, but their attention is on their boss.
There’s a soft whisper of cloth on stone. Then Mary breathes in my ear. “I’m free—dislocated my thumb to get out of the bindings, so I can’t untie you. But I can do a little magic without my wand. Hold still.”
“How will we know if the transfer works?” Dr. Dane asks. She stands away from the Timekeepers, arms folded as she observes the proceedings.
Mary’s hand presses against the ropes around my wrists. They don’t loosen, but their texture changes against my skin. “They’re friable now—you should be able to break free,” she whispers, then shuffles over to Helen.
Hart frowns, but Vitali nods his agreement. “That’s a good question. No offense, Shepherd,” he adds, nodding to the Swarm. It doesn’t acknowledge him.
“Very well.” Hart sounds irritated. “You said the sorcerer who was in Caine’s body wants it back, yes?”
The Swarm nods. “Yes.”
“Then bring him over here where we can get a good look at the process.”
Mary hasn’t had a chance to work on everyone’s bindings. If we give away the fact some of us can break free, we’ll be overwhelmed and bound again. Or Hart will simply order my companions killed, too much trouble to keep alive.
I look at Helen and Adrian, and give a little shake of my head. Hopefully Dorset will wait for Mary’s orders.
They must pick up my signal, because instead of leaping to his feet when the guards come for me, Adrian leans over and presses his lips to mine.
The kiss is desperate—a last kiss, filled with fear and longing. Then rough hands seize me, dragging me away from him.
“I love you!” I shout as I’m pulled to my feet, knowing I might not have another chance.
His voice is hoarse with emotion. “I love you, too.”
I try to look back over my shoulder as I’m hustled across the cave, but the guards block my view of him. My whole body trembles—I don’t know how we can possibly stop the Swarm from coming through and colonizing us, as they’ve done to so many species through the ages.
Vast eons of time separate this moment and the Tschchch city where the orb waits. Yet time is the one thing I don’t have enough of.
I’m brought to stand near the foot of the table, just below the first of the seven symbols leading to Dr. Dane’s machine and the member of the Swarm.
Fourteen men stare at me from the two tables.
Some show only curiosity, but most eye me with a greedy air.
Waiting for me to be replaced by what they believe to be a human sorcerer from the past.
“Before we begin, let us salute Mithras, Aion, Cronus—the many masks of Time itself,” Hart says.
Myers approaches with a bottle and begins to pour drinks for the men at the table.
“Tonight we are reborn like the phoenix, hatching from its own egg.” He turns to Vitali.
“I see we have enough wine for your men, to reward them for their loyalty. Have them join us in our toast.”
“Great idea, Zeb,” Vitali says with an easy grin. “Frank, a round for everyone, including yourself.”
I struggle not to look back in the direction of Adrian and the rest as Myers distributes bottles from an open crate. Should we wait until they’re distracted with their toast, then free ourselves?
“In the meantime, Dr. Dane, would you like to warm up your machine?” Hart asks. He doesn’t offer her a drink.
“Of course.” She goes to the machine, picks up the helmet, and hands it to the Swarm. “Put this on once you’re ready. It should allow you to reach back in time and guide your fellows to us.”
The Swarm takes the helmet but merely holds it, while Dr. Dane pulls levers and pushes buttons. The machine sputters to life, then drops into a low hum I feel in my teeth.
We have to act the moment the guards are distracted with the toast. Though Myers didn’t serve the ones to either side of me, curse it all.
Myers returns to stand at the table behind Vitali, a tin cup of wine or whatever it is they’re drinking in hand. “Ready, boss.”
Hart raises his cup again. “To the Timekeepers! To success! To ourselves, masters of our own fates!”
He touches the cup to his lips, even as the other Timekeepers down theirs. Except Myers doesn’t raise his glass, and I don’t see Hart swallow.
Something’s wrong.