ZURÜCK

German, "return; back"

The future came and went in the mildly discouraging way that futures do. -- Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, Good Omens

Once again Diarnlan's and Karandren's magic sat down -- metaphorically -- to find an answer.

Maybe we should send them back earlier.

We tried that.

I mean even earlier.

But when?

They considered various times. Diarnlan's time as a student at the academy, perhaps? But then Karandren had been only a small child. It was ridiculous to send an adult's soul into the body of a six-year-old.

Let's send Diarnlan back alone.

Yes, we'll try that.

After Karandren's mysterious reappearance and even more mysterious remark, Diarnlan had gone back to building her snowman. She was just putting the head in place when the world disintegrated around her.

"Here we go again," she grumbled as she opened her eyes.

She did a double take. This wasn't her bedroom. This was a colourless, cheerless place that was she had thought was no more than an unpleasant memory. She stared up at the blank white ceiling. She examined the thin quilt with its cover that had been washed so many times there was no colour left in it. She dropped her head back down on the lumpy pillow. The hard mattress squeaked in protest. One of its springs dug into Diarnlan's shoulder-blade.

No one who had been unlucky enough to sleep in the academy's dormitories would ever forget them. it had been eight years -- give or take a few lifetimes -- since Diarnlan had last suffered through an uncomfortable night in her old bed. The memory of it had stayed with her so vividly that she recognised where she was at once.

I don't believe it. What am I doing back here?

She climbed out of bed, shivering at how cold the room was, and tiptoed over to the door leading to the bathrooms. All around her the dormitory's other occupants slumbered on, so tightly wrapped up in their quilts that they looked like nothing so much as corpses laid out in winding-sheets.

Each dormitory was meant to house twelve students. Attached to the dormitory but separated from it by a door was a long bathroom with twelve cubicles, each housing a bath, sink, and toilet. Diarnlan opened the door and stepped into the narrow corridor between the cubicles.

There were lights along the ceiling that were spelled to only turn on when someone entered the room. They all lit up at once. The sudden brightness hurt Diarnlan's eyes. She winced and shoved open the door of the nearest cubicle. Over the sink was a small mirror, spelled to light up when someone looked in it. Mercifully for her growing headache, its lights were much dimmer and gentler than the ones outside.

Diarnlan leaned over the sink and stared at her reflection. It confirmed what she had already deduced. She was at least ten years younger than she had been when she died.

Why did I get sent back so early this time?

It made no sense. All the other lifetimes had started on the same day at the same time.

A thought struck her. If I'm fourteen that means Karandren is only four.

She burst out laughing. Her laughter had a distinctly unhinged edge to it. Even she could tell that. But if she didn't laugh she'd scream.

I can't kill a four-year-old!

A little voice that sounded very like Saungrafn whispered, You had no problem killing a fourteen-year-old.

Diarnlan glared at her reflection. Forgetting that someone might overhear her she said aloud, "That was different. He was a threat to me. A four-year-old isn't a threat to anyone, with memories or without them!"

The little voice fell silent. Diarnlan turned on the tap and splashed cold water on her face. It didn't help with her headache, but it woke her up and brought home the reality of the situation.

"I have ten years before the first monster arrives," she told her reflection. "Ten years. That's enough time. I'm going to get out of here, go to my teacher, learn as much magic as I can, and seal off the gap before anything can get through the veil."

And what about Karandren? the little voice whispered.

Diarnlan shrugged. "If he leaves me alone I'll leave him alone."

She left the cubicle and paused to look at the clock over the wall. It was just after six. The bell wouldn't ring until seven.

Diarnlan slipped back into the dormitory. None of the other girls stirred as she went over to her bed and rifled through the cabinet beside it. She chose the warmest clothes she had, ran back into the bathroom to change, then tiptoed across the dormitory and out into the hall.

To her own surprise she found she remembered the way out perfectly. Along the short corridor outside the dormitory, down the flight of stairs to the ground floor, across the entrance hall and out into the courtyard, down the stairs leading to the front door, then across the driveway and down to the gate.

The gate was closed, but she cast an unlocking spell and it opened easily. That was when she discovered that even though she remembered how to do complicated magic, she no longer had as much magic or as much control over it as she had before.

Diarnlan ran as fast as she could away from the academy. When she reached the main road she paused and took stock of her location. The horizon was just starting to turn pink with the first rays of the sun. Behind her were the Laoiveres, ahead of her was the road to the capital. About fifteen miles away another road branched off this one and led to the sea. That was the way she would go, then. She'd go to Thagallbiǫð, find Teivain-ríkhorn-hrair, and-- Well, she'd figure out what to do next when she got that far.

I'm not going to tell her the truth, she thought. She'd think I'm mad.

It was going to be hard enough convincing her teacher to let her stay without complicating matters with stories about time-travel and multiple deaths.

All magicians could run much faster and for longer than ordinary humans. In her previous lifetimes Diarnlan could have travelled the fifteen miles in about fifteen minutes. In this lifetime, with less magic and a slight but noticeable difference in height, it took her closer to fifty minutes. When she finally reached the road she was out of breath and had a stitch in her side.

Diarnlan collapsed onto the grass beneath the signpost pointing to the sea. She promptly leapt up again with a yelp. The sun was fully risen now, but it hadn't dried up the dew yet. Diarnlan leant against the signpost instead while she caught her breath. She glared at the grass.

An idea occurred to her. Now would be as good a time as any to start practicing her more complicated spells. Why not use a clothes-drying spell to dry the grass?

She cast the spell. For a minute nothing happened. A few faint wisps of smoke began to rise from the ground. Then a square of grass burst into flame.

Diarnlan screamed and sprang back. The fire began to creep outside of the square and onto the rest of the grass. She tried casting a fire-extinguishing spell. A few flames went out, but they were immediately replaced by new ones. She pulled off her heavy coat and beat the fire.

Several stressful minutes later there were no flames left, but there was a large patch of burnt ground. No one travelling on the road could possibly miss seeing it.

Diarnlan groaned. She didn't dare try any more spells. In spite of her tiredness she resolutely marched off towards the sea before anyone came along and asked awkward questions.

The entrance to Thagallbiǫð, Teivain-ríkhorn-hrair's realm, was only two miles from Diarnlan's old home. That had been the reason she chose her house. Most of her teacher's other students still lived with their families and teleported to her realm for lessons. But Diarnlan had never gotten on well with her family, so she had bought a house of her own and chosen it specifically so she didn't have far to teleport.

As she neared the seaside Diarnlan paused and looked in the direction of her future house. Was there any point in going to see it? Logic told her it would be just a waste of time. Someone else was living there, and she could hardly go in and ask for a cup of tea. But somehow the urge to go and see it anyway was too strong to resist.

She turned to the right and followed the lane that ran beside the sea. To the left there was a fence stopping anyone from falling into the water. In the distance she could hear cows mooing. The wind carried the smell of smoke to her. After the debacle with the burning grass Diarnlan was in no mood to face any more fires. It was with considerable relief that she saw the smoke was coming from a chimney.

Not just any chimney; her chimney. A surge of outrage filled her before she remembered this wasn't her house now and there wasn't someone trespassing.

She stood on the hill and stared down at the building. It was painted a bright cheerful orange. When she bought it she'd thought the orange was garish so she whitewashed the whole place. Strangely, now she found the orange paint wasn't as garish as she'd thought before.

Whoever lived there now had flower-boxes on the windows. They didn't have a vegetable garden. Diarnlan thought wistfully of her tomato plants. Thanks to these time-loops it looked like she would never get to win the best tomato prize at the village vegetable show.

Before leaving she looked warily out at the sea. It looked perfectly peaceful. Not a monster in sight, and a school of dolphins just visible on the horizon.

She turned and walked back towards Thagallbiǫð. It took her the better part of an hour to reach the entrance to her teacher's realm. Like most gateways to magical realms it was placed between two trees growing close together. So close together, in fact, that Diarnlan had to turn sideways to get through. That inconvenient gateway had always gotten on her nerves before. Now it was a relief to find it exactly the way she remembered.

Unlike Diarnlan, Teivain-ríkhorn-hrair hadn't built herself a castle in her realm. Instead she'd built an average-sized house that floated above the ground. A flight of stairs made of clouds went from the door to the path below. Diarnlan's realm had been eternally winter, while this one was eternally late summer. The leaves on the trees were just starting to turn brown. Flowers bloomed all over the ground. A river ran in front of the house. Instead of the path going over the river, the river went over the path. It formed a tall arch that flowed without any concern for the laws of physics.

Diarnlan walked up to the door and knocked loudly. She waited for a minute. No answer. She knocked again. An upstairs window was pushed open and her teacher's voice -- sounding rather harried -- issued from it.

"If you're the witch bringing the arrowroot, just leave it on the doorstep. I can't come down yet."

Diarnlan stepped away from the door and shouted up at the window. "I don't have any arrowroot. I'm here to ask for help."

"Oh dear," Teivain-ríkhorn-hrair said. "Can you wait for a few minutes? I'm dealing with a spider infestation."

With a shudder Diarnlan remembered the sort of spiders that lived in her teacher's realm. She turned the door-handle. It opened. She marched into the house, grabbed a mop that was propped against the wall, and went upstairs to help.

Just as she'd thought. She found her teacher embroiled in a staring contest with a giant spider. When the spider tried to move, the mage waved her scythe threateningly.

Diarnlan gave the spider the glare she'd perfected from lifetimes of dealing with Karandren. "Get out!"

The spider shrank back. It turned and scurried out the window as if its life depended on it.

Teivain-ríkhorn-hrair looked from Diarnlan to the window and back. "Thank you. Now, what do you want my help with?"

Diarnlan set down the mop. "It's a long story." In spite of her previous idea she decided abruptly to tell the truth. "I'm stuck in a time-loop and it resets every time I die."

Her teacher blinked. "...You'd better come down to the kitchen. I think we both need tea for this conversation."