1.11 – Meeting Alatha

An hour later found Carda, Xironi, Sera, Ben, and Esca in the room in the car’s trunk. A lamp burned brightly on top of the refrigerator. In its light, Sera and Xironi were making sandwiches from the generous stash that Lucas had provided, while Carda sat on the couch and thumbed through the journal.

“This journal is great! It’s dated seventy years ago. It’s by a guy named Maxwell Hardy. Apparently Maxwell realized his power when he was my age, and there hadn’t been a Strider of Chronos around for several generations. Both sides kept killing them off.”

“That’s horrible,” said Xironi, staring.

“Any idea where to find the medallion?” Sera asked.

“Let me read the thing first,” said Carda, waving a hand with his nose still buried in the book. “You ought to see his handwriting—it’s terrible.”

Xironi inspected the contents of one of Lucas’s ziploc bags. It was a thick white paste. “Sera, what does this look like to you?”

Sera looked at it, then opened the bag and smelled it. “Horseradish. Phew!” She grabbed her nose and pinched it as her eyes streamed. “Remind me never to do that again! That stuff is powerful!”

Xironi spread it thinly on the bread, then slapped the sandwich all together and handed it to Carda.

Carda ate without realizing what he was putting in his mouth. “Hey, there’s stuff scribbled in the margins. They’re like little bits of drawings or letters… Look at this, Xironi.”

He held the journal toward her, and she leaned close to examine the scribbles. “It looks like Egyptian hieroglyphics. See, that bit that looks like a bird?”

“There’s lots of these,” Carda murmured, turning the journal this way and that. He flipped a page and kept reading with his finger holding the spot so he could turn back. He munched his sandwich, then suddenly coughed. “Am I being punished for something?”

“No, why?” Xironi replied.

Carda brandished the sandwich. “What did you put on this thing?”

“Lucas’s horseradish,” said Sera, hefting the bag.

“Good night,” said Carda, wiping his nose. “If I had any hint of a headcold, it’s gone now.” He took another cautious bite of his sandwich, and continued studying the journal. “Hang on, I think I see a pattern here.”

Xironi and Sera left their lunchmaking and walked over to the sofa.

“These images overlap each other in some sort of pattern. I wonder…” Carda held out his hands, and green fire wrapped around his left hand before spreading across to the outstretched fingers of his right. The energy between them flattened into a paper-thin film.

“Shiny,” commented Ben from the floor, where he was mauling a piece of bread.

“I know, just watch,” Carda replied. He carefully lowered the energy film over the book at an angle, and as it touched the journal, the book began to disappear above the film. Carda carefully adjusted the tilt of the film until an image appeared along the edges of the pages.

“Looks like coordinates and a map,” Xironi mused. Esca peeked over her shoulder and committed the image to her memory banks.

Carda slowly drew the spatial film away from the book, releasing the energy only when he was clear of it. “Any ideas where that map will lead us?” Carda asked.

“Hmmm. I’m not really sure, actually,” Xironi mused. “We should probably head home; Esca might be able to cross-reference the map, but she needs an Ether connection to do it.”

Carda blinked. “A what?”

“An Ether connection. It’s like wireless internet only lots faster. Sun Valley hasn’t really caught on yet, but about half the Net service providers in the area are connected to the Ether, and they just throttle down the bandwidth and sell it over land lines. It’s a total ripoff.”

“Actually, that’s a good idea. My computer should have arrived by now, and I’d like to get it set up in here.”

“And I’m curious to see if Indal has discovered anything about that necklace,” Xironi added quietly.

Carda nodded. “Homeward it is, then.”

Carda’s computer was indeed waiting for their return, but neither Indal nor Lucas could be found. Carda shrugged it off. They were adults, after all; they hardly needed permission to go anywhere.

As Carda set up his computer in the “trunk room,” his mind drifted back to the call-and-response password he had given Jonas. The poetic exchange had been written word for word in Joseph’s journal, but Carda saw the truth behind the riddles. The mentions of right and left were clearly referring to the dual powers of the Strider of Chronos, and by extension those who wielded each one. Whether right or left referred to the striders or the chronomancers, Carda didn’t know; his own powers were supposedly backwards as it was. But that wasn’t the important part.

Why is there debate? Pride. In other words, it was pride and self-conceit that led to the strife between the striders and the chronomancers. Each side wanted to exist without the other, but that wasn’t possible. The very fabric of nature depended on the coexistence of time and space.

It was pride, too, that had kept Carda from accepting the Creator’s gift. He had wanted to make it through life on his own, to be reliant on no one but himself.

It had taken a series of incredibly unlikely events to show Carda how weak a foundation his faith in himself had been. Taken out of his comfort zone, his self-reliance had been tested… and found lacking.

It occurred to Carda just then that the Creator had been taking care of him all along. He had prayed that night at Firebird Speedway, over two weeks ago, and been saved from what would have been a deadly car wreck. He had prayed the next day when he’d nearly gotten his lights punched out by Shades, and been saved from a trip to the hospital.

He’d prayed that moment in the Strider Academy, standing over Xironi’s unconscious body, about to pierce her heart with a space-shifted sword, and he’d been saved from a lifetime of regret and sorrow.

Even when he hadn’t given himself to the Creator’s plan, the Creator had taken care of him. And somehow Carda didn’t think that his being the Strider of Chronos had anything to do with it. After all, Sera had been watching over him since long before he’d discovered these powers.

Carda knew that he would have to guard himself against the pride that would inevitably come with the amount of power he ostensibly wielded. That power carried with it the responsibility to avoid abusing it at all costs.

In other words, no going back in time to get A’s on all those grade school tests. Oh well.

“Anyone here?” a voice called from above.

“Down here,” Carda called out absently.

A face popped into view above. “Wow, I’ve heard of roomy trunk space before, but…”

The voice was clearer now, and unfamiliar at that. Carda looked up and froze.

“Sorry for just dropping by unannounced,” the girl was saying.

“Oh, that’s no problem, I just… Hmmm. Do I know you?”

“I don’t believe we’ve ever met before,” the girl replied, adjusting her glasses. “My name is Alatha Semaeri, and I’m from the Institute of Temporal Studies. I’m looking for Indalrion Tachyon.”

Tachyon? Fitting name for a chronomancer, Carda thought. “Indal’s staying with us for a while, but he’s not here at the moment.” A beat. “Are you sure we haven’t met before?”

Alatha paused. “I’m sure I would remember meeting the Strider of Chronos, Mr. Carda.”

“Please, just Carda. It’s bad enough having one person around here call me ‘Mister’. Makes me feel old.” Another beat. “Wait, how did you know—?”

“I can explain, although leaning over this bumper is cramping my spine. Could we continue this discussion indoors?”

“Sure, no problem.” Carda pulled out his cell phone and pressed a button on the side. “Hey, Xironi, there’s someone here to see Indal. I’m bringing her inside.”

“Okay, I’m in the kitchen,” Xironi’s voice came back.

Carda climbed out of the trunk, and Alatha helped him roll up the ladder. She was tall and thin, with brown hair and oval glasses she wore far down her nose. She was dressed in slacks and a blouse that made her look like she worked at a bank, and Carda was slightly intimidated. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew her, somehow.

“Well, c’mon inside. I’m sure Indal will be back pretty soon.” Carda led her indoors, feeling off-balance.

Xironi was tiptoeing around Lucas’s alchemy equipment, sweeping up broken glass. Carda didn’t comment, but said, “Xironi, this is Alatha Semaeri, and Alatha, this is Xironi Heartlight.”

The girls shook hands. “Heartlight?” said Alatha. “Relative of Arthur Heartlight?”

“He’s my grandfather,” said Xironi.

Alatha smiled and nodded. “He’s taught at the Institute a number of times. Great man.”

“Can I get you anything?” said Xironi. “I was cleaning up an accident in here… apparently one of the… pets… took a shine to the equipment.”

“No thank you,” said Alatha politely. She gazed around the kitchen. “Are you an alchemist?”

“Oh, no,” said Xironi, sweeping vigorously, embarrassed at having company while the floor was covered in glass. “We have one staying with us for a while.”

“You just take people in off the street?” said Alatha, looking quizzically at Carda. “First Indal, then an alchemist…?”

“They’re the only ones, and there are long stories behind both of them,” said Carda.

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only by Xironi edging around the kitchen with her broom. Carda wished that he could place Alatha, and he wished that she would stop being so formal. He sensed that she, like him, was growing more nervous by the minute. “So,” he said, “how did you know that I’m the Strider of Chronos?”

“Oh,” she said, “chronomancer scrying. We knew that you were the Strider of Chronos; we just had to wait until you found out before initiating any contact.”

“Why…?”

“…did we scry something like that? Because it’s in our best interest to keep track of the Striders of Chronos. What if one of your kind went bad again? That’d be horrible.”

“Again?”

Their conversation was interrupted as the back door opened, and Lucas and Indal entered, deep in a conversation of their own. “The coffee sloshes around and makes me off balance!” Indal was saying. “I feel like a dang percolator!”

“The coffee is specially modified to dampen your spatial resonance,” Lucas replied. “Without it, you… uh…” He caught sight of Alatha.

Indal was wearing what appeared to be a bicycle wheel around his neck, complete with spokes and innertube. How Lucas had got it around Indal’s neck was anyone’s guess. Carda, Xironi, and Alatha all stared in wonder.

“Nice getup,” said Carda. “You’re dripping coffee on the floor.”

Indal paid no attention. He was staring at Alatha, and he had gone red. “Uh… hello, Alatha.”

“Hello Indal,” she replied. “What’s with the bike wheel?”

Indal looked down at it. “Let’s face it: this is not the worst thing you’ve caught me doing.”

“It’s to restrain his spatial transformation when he uses temporal powers,” Lucas explained. “It’s just a prototype.”

Alatha sighed and reached into her purse. “I did bring these,” she said, pulling out a pair of silver bracelets. “Temporal shackles that do exactly the same thing.”

Indal and Lucas looked at each other. Then they turned and hurried back outside.

Alatha shook her head. “Sheesh. I’ll never understand how his mind works.”

Indal and Lucas reappeared a few minutes later, Indal now lacking the bicycle wheel, but smelling faintly of hazelnut. He hugged Alatha. “I’m glad you came on such short notice. Let me show you this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out Xironi’s pendant.

Alatha’s eyes widened. She reached into her purse and pulled out a short white stick that had a spiral engraved in it, like a unicorn’s horn. She held it up. The ‘pendant’ was identical to the last couple inches of the wand.

Everyone stared at the wand and the pendant in wide-eyed silence. “Where did this come from?” asked Alatha in a whisper.

Indal looked at Carda. “I don’t know,” the latter answered. “Xironi just found it on the floor—right?”

“Yes,” said Xironi. “It was on the floor in the lounge the other morning. I thought it was pretty, so I started wearing it.”

“But when I touch it, I see… dreams,” said Carda. “As soon as they’re over, I forget what happened.”

Alatha looked at Indal. “It could be a fragment from a temporal misalignment.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Indal. “The tri-energy would have to have spantered and spiraled into a Hythian pattern, throwing it here.”

“But I haven’t time travelled in ages,” said Alatha. “That doesn’t rule out the future, though. Have you scryed it yet?”

“That’s what the bike wheel was for,” said Indal, nodding at Lucas. “I have to restrain my transformation in order to use any powers at all.”

Alatha handed him the shackles. “Put these on and let’s get started.”

They moved into the Hub, where Xironi, Carda, and Lucas could hear them still talking Chronomancer-speak. Then Lucas noticed Xironi still holding the broom. “Oh no. What broke?”

“Ben got into your equipment,” said Xironi. “I’m really sorry. He knocked over that rack and the big glass bottle smashed.”

Lucas raced to his setup and examined the damage. “Oh, thank the Creator, it was only a spare. If he had broken my potion, it would have released sicorin oxide into the house.”

“What’s that do?” asked Xironi.

“You’d all wake up in the morning with warts and webbed toes,” said Lucas. He busied himself with his equipment, leaving Xironi and Carda to try to figure out whether he was kidding or not.

“Miss Xironi!” called Esca from the front of the house. “A delivery man just dropped off a big box. I think it’s my upgrade!”

“All right!” Xironi teleported to the entry. A moment later Carda saw her run toward her room, carrying a box, with Esca floating over her shoulder. Suddenly he was all by himself.

He went back outside and climbed down into the car’s trunk, where he resumed setting up his computer. He booted it and fiddled with its settings, but his heart wasn’t in it. He wanted to know what was happening with the chronomancers and the weird necklace that was a broken wand. He wanted to have Xironi nearby. He wanted to know which Strider of Chronos had gone bad.

He heard a patter of feet, and felt claws on his pant leg. “Shiny?” Ben asked.

“So this is where you were hiding,” said Carda. “You stay out of Lucas’s stuff, you understand?”

“Shiny,” said Ben apologetically. He jumped up on Carda’s desk and sniffed the new monitor. “Shiny!”

“Shiny,” Carda agreed.

Ben walked across his desk on all fours, and arrived at Carda’s right hand. He nudged his snout under it until it was resting on his head, and Carda stroked him without paying attention. Suddenly the computer froze. Carda grumbled and reached for the power button, when he realized that purple sparks were flying between his fingers and Ben’s head. Ben’s eyes were closed, and he had a blissful expression on his face, as if Carda were scratching him in just the right spot.

Of course, a time elemental would prefer to be handled with time powers. Carda concentrated. He had made time stop; now he needed to start it again. Instead he hovered between seconds, and his computer screen flickered as he caught up with its refresh rate. Ben opened his eyes and flicked out his tongue, tasting Carda’s sparks. “Shiny,” he said. He reached up and rested a paw on Carda’s hand. Carda felt the power surge and make his muscles tremble, and they jumped forward five minutes. Then Ben pulled on his hand, lessening the power, and they slowly rewound back through those five minutes. Carda watched them count down on his computer’s clock.

Ben let go of Carda and sat up on his haunches. “Shiny!” he commanded, and slapped Carda’s hand with his tail. Carda stopped transmitting lightning, and they dropped out of the time shift.

Carda tried it again, and this time he jumped forward and rewound back much easier. He was figuring out how time travel worked and felt. Whenever he lost control, Ben slapped his hand with his tail and made him drop out of the time shift.

“I guess I am the Strider of Chronos, huh?” said Carda, stroking Ben’s clockwork-spikes. “I just proved conclusively that I can control time.”

“Shiny,” said Ben dismissively, as if he had known this all along. Suddenly his head shot up, and he sniffed. His orange eyes widened. He whimpered and vanished. Carda knew from the feel of the power ripple that Ben had just dived back in time twenty minutes. “What the?” he muttered, rising from his chair. He climbed the ladder and stepped out of the trunk…

…and saw a blue and purple 1937 Coupe pull to the curb in front of the house. The tinted window rolled down, and Rayn leered out. Carda closed the trunk, hoping that Rayn hadn’t seen him climb out.

Carda reflexively summoned his staff to his hand. Now why couldn’t I have done that the other day? he wondered silently. Aloud, he addressed Rayn. “What do you want?”

“Just passing by,” Rayn lied.

“Then I suggest you keep passing,” Carda threatened.

“Please. You’re hardly a challenge,” Rayn laughed.

“If that were true, I’d be dead at least four times over by now. And you know this.”

“I didn’t come here to debate your skill.”

“Then why bother showing your face? You know Xironi won’t have anything to do with you anymore.”

“I owed you a small favor for rescuing her,” Rayn admitted. “But no more than that. I’m only here to deliver a message, and then I will consider that favor paid in full.”

“So spit it out.”

“Events have been put into motion that you have no hope of stopping. Soon you and everyone you care for will perish.”

“I’d hardly consider that a worthy payment,” Carda growled, raising his staff to strike a blow through the open car window.

Rayn grinned. “Just remember this: I’m your only hope of finding your sister. You so much as touch me and you’ll never find her again.”

“You’re lying.”

“You’ll never know,” Rayn shot back just before he accelerated away from the curb.

Carda was glad to find a full combat training course in one of the unexplored wings of the house. He needed to blow off some steam after his encounter with Rayn.

He found the course somewhat easier than he might otherwise have; all he had to do was envision Rayn’s face on each target.

How dare Rayn threaten Carda and his friends?

How dare he hold his sister hostage this way?

How dare he?

HOW DARE HE!

Carda was jarred from his rage when a severe staff blow to the head of a target dummy decapitated it.

“Remind me never to make you mad,” came Xironi’s voice from the doorway.

Carda turned around, feeling his face grow hot. “I needed an outlet.”

Xironi stood in the doorway, wearing a grease-covered apron that for some reason Carda found fetching. “By all means, don’t bottle up the rage,” she said. “What happened to make you so mad?”

Carda told her about Rayn’s visit, twirling his staff from hand to hand. Xironi watched the staff. When he finished the story, she said, “I wonder what disaster Rayn was talking about. And when did you learn to use a staff like that?”

“The folks made me take up a fighting technique,” said Carda. “They said that I didn’t get enough exercise. Dad wanted me to take tae bo, but I found a staff instructor in the phone book. Much more interesting. And unusual.”

“I’ll say,” said Xironi. “Hey, look at Esca!”

A green robot cat sat beside Xironi’s ankle. As she spoke, it rose to all fours and padded into the room. Its features were smooth and sculpted, like a leopard’s, and its mechanical body was paneled with long strips of plastic, textured with black spots. Esca’s disk nestled in the cat’s body cavity, and her lights blinked from its back. “Hello Mr. Carda,” she said. “Do you like my upgrade?”

Carda didn’t know if he liked it or not, but he said politely, “You look really good, Esca. Just like a real cat.”

Her yellow eyes blinked in satisfaction. She scampered back to Xironi and said, “I’m going to find Ben. I think he’ll like this.”

They listened to her metal claws clatter away down the hall. A moment later, they heard Ben shriek, “SHINY!”

“He approves,” said Carda, and they laughed.

“Well,” said Xironi, untying her apron, “do you want to try to get the second journal this afternoon, or wait until tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” said Carda. “What if we go to the next world, and it’s early morning, and we wind up having had an eighteen hour day?”

Xironi wrinkled her nose. “You have a point there.”

Carda set his staff in a corner and briefly wondered where he usually summoned it from. “I wonder if Alatha and Indal need any help?”

“I don’t know, but I’d better tell Lucas to make dinner for six,” said Xironi. “I just looked in there. They have stuff all over the place and don’t look like they’re close to being done.” She dashed away with a flick of her tail. Carda grinned. The catgirl now had a pet robot cat. How appropriate.

Lucas did not take kindly to the news that he had to make dinner for everyone. “All I’ve done since I got here is work for you people,” he grumbled as he chopped up carrots. “And you don’t even pay me.”

“How much did they pay you back home?” Xironi asked, concerned.

“A denarius, at least,” said Lucas. “Although they don’t let me keep my alchemy equipment right in the kitchen. I suppose that’s something of a tradeoff.”

“What’s wrong with your equipment? Other than it taking up a lot of room.”

“Semi-configured potions are toxic sometimes.”

He dumped the chopped carrots into a pot, set the pot in the center of an alchemist’s circle on the stove, and placed his hands on two of the symbols on its edge. The pot bubbled, and the water inside changed to a rich broth. He tasted it, shook his head, and rummaged in the refrigerator. As soon as he turned his back, Ben materialized on the counter, leaped to the stove, and stuck his head in the pot. Xironi froze him in space, grabbed him and threw him out of the kitchen.

“Thanks,” said Lucas. “He’s discovered that I make food in here.”

Xironi stood guard against Ben’s wiles while Lucas finished making dinner. Watching Lucas work fascinated her. He didn’t have to wait for anything to boil or heat up—he simply transmuted it to its cooked form.

In an hour and a half Lucas had constructed a thick vegetable stew, fresh bread, and a dessert of strawberry cheesecake. Xironi set the table and helped him serve the food, so he wouldn’t feel like they were making a servant of him. She didn’t sit down to eat until he had joined them all at the table.

Carda, Alatha, and Indal, meanwhile, were deep in conversation about the Chronomancers’ findings about the broken necklace. “It’s definately from an alternate timeline,” said Alatha. “It’ll take a lot more testing to figure out where the timeline came from, though.”

“The fragment is identical to Alatha’s wand; that much is certain,” said Indal, tearing a hunk from his bread and soaking it in his soup. “Something happened somewhere to fracture it. Her wand has so much power that it may have created the alternate timeline all by itself.”

“How will you figure out what’s happening in the other timeline?” Carda asked.

“Go there, I suppose,” said Alatha. “Although we should be able to just look into it, and follow it back to its source.”

“I hope it doesn’t involve something bad happening to you,” Indal said, looking at Alatha with concern.

She waved a hand. “Even if it did, it’s an alternate timeline, so it’s a possibility resulting from something that happens in this timeline. I’m safe by default, because the timeline split off when something bad DIDN’T happen to me.”

“You think,” said Carda. “You haven’t looked yet, have you?”

“Not yet,” said Indal, fiddling with his spoon. “These spatial bindings limit my power.”

“That’ll be our project tomorrow,” said Alatha. “I’ll bring over my equipment. That should make up for your limitations.”

Conversation continued in this vein for a while. Carda was increasingly aware of the chemistry between Indal and Alatha. They constantly lapsed into tech-speak, stared at each other, and Indal kept dropping his hand onto Alatha’s. Carda wished that he could do the same to Xironi, but she was sitting across from him, out of reach. To stop their disgusting couple-display, Carda said, “Hey, Rayn Mistral showed up today.”

Indal and Alatha forgot all about their flirting and sat up straight. “I hope you punched him for me,” said Indal.

“I wanted to,” said Carda. He recounted Rayn’s vague warning about events being in motion that would kill them all.

“What, they sent assassins after us?” said Xironi. She looked at Sera, who had been eating quietly at the foot of the table this whole time. “Anybody tried to break in lately, Sera?”

“Not that I know of,” said Sera. “Although some shadow spirits have been hanging around ever since Lucas got here.”

Alatha looked questioning, and they told her the story of rescuing Lucas from Dimetrius’s shadow spirit attack.

“Why would they go after you, Lucas?” Alatha asked, looking at him.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I went to the Strider Academy trying to dig up dirt on Octavius and the Multiversal Guide. Boy, did I. Now I just need to get home and spread the word.”

“Did they know that when they sent the spirits after you?” asked Alatha.

Lucas shook his head. “Nobody knew until I told Carda and Xironi. But that Dimetrius fellow knew my name and attacked me specifically.”

Alatha tapped her chin with one finger. “You must know something important, Lucas. Let’s see… Have you ever been to the Heart of Worlds?”

Lucas laughed. “I wish! No.”

“Okay, then… do you know something special about world hopping?”

“Nope. I got to the Strider Academy through one of their recruitment portals. Although…” Lucas looked thoughtful. “I do know the symbols for opening a gateway to the Library of Worlds’ Ages.”

Silence fell as everyone stared at him. “You what?” said Xironi.

Lucas looked around at all of them. “What, is that special?”

“Nobody knows how to get to the Library of Worlds’ Ages!” exclaimed Indal. “How do you know?”

Lucas looked uncomfortable. “Well, I’m not supposed to. When I was twelve, I was playing outside the Atlantis Worldgate, and I was watching when they set it to the Library. When you see the symbols for a world, they stay in your mind. You can’t ever forget them. That’s part of their magic, so worldgate codes are never forgotten. But I wasn’t supposed to see them.”

“No wonder they wanted you dead,” said Indal in awe.

“Not dead,” said Carda. “They’d probably just take his soul and steal the memory.”

Lucas shuddered.

“So what is the Library of Worlds’ Ages?” asked Carda. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

“It’s an infinite library outside of space and time,” said Xironi. “It’s where the history of all people in all worlds are recorded.”

“Recorded by whom?” Carda asked.

“Angelii, like me,” said Sera, looking up with a smile. “Only immortals can stay in eternity, working at an eternal task.”

“Why would anybody want to go there?” asked Lucas.

“Imagine it,” said Xironi. “Somewhere is a book with your entire history written in it. What if you could get that book and edit it, changing your history? Or what if you found the book that contained the story of your worst enemy, and destroyed it?”

“How do you know so much about the Library?” asked Alatha, frowning at her.

Xironi gazed back. “I’ve been there.”

“I hope you didn’t edit your life,” said Indal with a half smile.

“No,” said Xironi. “That’s where we evacuated to when Felicia was destroyed.”

This was certainly new information. “I hadn’t heard about that,” Carda replied quietly.

“You wouldn’t have; it was well over a dozen years ago,” Xironi continued. “A subspace storm consumed the world and everything in it. Those of us who survived only managed to because of the efforts of my grandfather and Joseph Planarre.”

“The last Strider of Chronos,” Lucas added.

Xironi nodded. “They opened one of several evacuation gateways all over the world, and we got as many people evacuated as we could, but… Some people didn’t make it.”

“Like Joseph,” Carda finished.

“Yes.”

“A subspace storm, though…” Alatha mused. “It would take something catastrophic to cause something that major. The fabric of time and space isn’t as fragile as you might think.”

“Doesn’t subspace exist beyond time or space, though?” Indal asked.

“That’s why a storm there is so dire. It would take the combined efforts, the concerted energies, of hundreds, maybe thousands of people—”

“Or one big machine,” Carda interrupted, meeting Xironi’s eyes.

Xironi thought for a moment, then her eyes widened. “You don’t think…?”

“Octavius has a machine that extracts souls. Why? And why would he keep the bodies in cold storage instead of just disposing of them?”

“Because the body could be used as an energy source, like a battery.”

“And the souls could be used for something even worse,” Sera added. “Especially if Dimetrius is involved.”

Everyone sat there for a moment, not eating, not even moving. After a long silence, Carda spoke up. “I think we’d better find that other journal, and fast.”

“First thing tomorrow morning?” Lucas inquired.

Carda nodded.

“We’ll get cracking on that necklace, too,” Alatha chimed in.

“Sounds like a plan. If there’s any way to stop this subspace storm, we need to do it. And quickly.”