YEAR: 25

River's Bend, Ruy, Copernicus

><><>

"Tessa, help me out here!"

At the sound of her father's cry, Tessa froze where she was perched halfway up the wooden ladder, her arms full of wax prayer candles. The next second the candles went clattering to the hardwood floor as she leapt down, hitting the ground at a run, her inventory count forgotten. She slammed through the door to the shop proper, ignoring the confused faces of the customers as she climbed onto the counter for a better view. Her panic mounted as she scanned the shop and failed to find her father's head.

"Da!" she called, jumping down from the counter. She headed for the south wall, where the floor to ceiling display shelves blocked her view. "Da! Where are you?"

What was wrong with the customers? How could they just stand there staring while her father called for help? She darted between the tall shelves and would have run straight into him if she hadn't flung herself back at the last second. He was standing just inside the end of the row, his arms stretched above his head, holding back a teetering stack of tinned shortbread.

"Could you push these back a bit for me?" he said calmly.

It took her a second to realize he was fine, that the emergency was minor in nature. Her hands shook from adrenaline as she helped him push the tins back in place. "Jesus, why did you no answer me when I called?"

Quin shrugged, one of the tins in his hand. A rueful smile played across his features and lit his moss-colored eyes. "I might have, if you'd given me time. You were beside me before I could open my mouth to reply."

"Oh." She stepped back, giving him room. He handed the tin to a waiting customer and she trailed across the shop after him, feeling rather foolish. "I'm sorry, Da. I thought…"

"I know well enough what you were thinking, Tay. And I told you there's no need for worrying yourself. I'm fine."

But that was just it, the scariest thing about his recent episodes. He could be fine one minute and the next in a total state of confusion, barely knowing who or where he was. It had happened twice in the past two weeks, ruling out the one-time event the first doctor had assured them it was. They had another appointment pending for next week. Quin had tried to talk her out of the second appointment, citing the need to save their meager health points for something more serious, but she'd refused to take no for an answer. It wasn't fatigue, or age, or spring allergies, or any of the other things he'd tried to blame it on. Her gut told her that something was very wrong.

Her anxiety must have shown, for Quin smiled at her again from behind the counter as he checked out the customer with the shortbread. "Really, I'm all right, sweetheart."

She returned the smile, not feeling it but not wishing to dwell on the subject either. She helped him shoo the last of the customers out of the shop and returned to the back room to finish counting the candles, while he checked the display inventory against the sales records on his locator. The bells on the shop door jingled, and hearing Darius' voice, she hastened to finish her task. The evening sword class she assisted him with was due to start soon.

"Done with the candles, Tessa Ariella?" said her father as she reentered the front shop. She made a face at the use of her much too frilly full name but gave him the numbers to put into the system. Darius rubbed his hand over his mouth, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing, Tessa," he said, his face straight as an oak. "Ready to go?"

She grabbed her sweater from behind the counter and followed him out the heavy wooden front door. She and Quin lived just off the main road, so the walk from here to the practice yard was quick.

"How are things going?" Darius asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the shop.

"Da is all right, I suppose. For now."

"I meant you."

"Oh." She kept her attention on the Castle, looming over the village on its hill. The place was, in fact, a proper castle, built by a MacKinnon ancestor who wished a home befitting his role as governor of a country. Four square towers flanked a three-story cube, all of it faced with native gray and black granite broken up by tall rectangular windows. Although it looked medieval, the building was modern on the inside, a dichotomy that delighted guests but Tessa tended to take for granted. She had grown up chasing Ric through the gardens and towers and long corridors of the Castle. "I suppose I'm all right, too."

"You're tough," he said, and left it at that. It was high praise coming from Darius, and she wished she felt as confident as he was in her ability to cope. Her father's illness had made her acutely aware of how babied she'd been up until now.

They arrived at the practice yard shortly. The fenced, roughly circular area stood at the southwestern corner of Castle, giving way at its edge to the steep drop-off of the hill. At some point during Tessa's childhood, Darius had built steps into the side of the hill for quicker access to the yard from the main road. She remembered rolling down the hill with Ric before the steps existed. Looking down now, she was amazed they'd never tumbled into the brook at the bottom.

Once inside the practice yard, Darius unlocked the weapons closet set into the tower, and they each carried an armful of dummy swords to the edge of the dusty arena and set them standing against the fence. The evening air had a bite to it, and she peered up at the sky, hoping childishly for snow despite the weather reports that assured a warm Christmas. Darius followed her gaze and shook his head.

"It's not happening, Tessa." His flat Plutonian accent held no hint that he'd lived in Ruy for nearly his entire adult life, but everyone accepted him as a local regardless.

"There's a chance," she said, propping open the gate. The students would begin arriving any moment. "If the southern front pushes north…"

"For a scientist, you're quite a dreamer. Spring is here to stay. I've seen snow on Christmas here twice, both times barely a centimeter that melted by noon."

"Daddo says that when he was a child—"

"Ric's grandfather tells a lot of stories. Snow on Christmas in Ruy being slightly more plausible than the rest, I'll give you that."

"Are you calling Alistair MacKinnon a liar?"

"I'm calling him creative." He looked as though he might smile but held his composure. "Don't tell him I said that. I still owe him a shuttle trip to Falcon's Bay from the last time you tattled on me."

She flushed despite the cold. "I didn't tattle on purpose. How was I to know your comings and goings were suddenly top secret?"

"Only the trips to Falcon's Bay. You know how he loves that place."

"Aye. That's why I told him."

He laughed then, and she grinned, pleased with herself. It was work to get a laugh out of Darius, but worth the reward. Most people assumed he never cracked a smile; he was stoic, and his rare but formidable anger was legend in Ruy. However, she and Ric knew better. He'd been nothing but kind to her growing up, and he'd practically raised Ric, Anders having had little time for his son in his work as Governor. Tessa often doubted that Anders liked Ric at all, but kept that opinion to herself after once being scolded by her father for expressing it.

"Is Colm coming?" asked Darius.

"Perhaps. He hasn't loked me to tell me he's not."

"That's definitive."

"He's been busy helping his da lately. I'm sure he'll make it if it's safe to run the boat over."

Darius made a sound of disapproval in the back of his throat, the noise Ric called the "Darius grunt." Tessa turned away to hide her frown. Although he'd never said it out loud, she knew he didn't like Colm any more than Ric did—which was to say, not at all. She didn't look forward to telling either of them she'd been out with Colm several times now, even though it should be no surprise to anyone on either side of the river. She'd held him off for a year before her friend Mary had convinced her to at least give him a chance. And Tessa did enjoy his attention. He may not have been the most wholesome choice in Ruy, but he was charming and he'd treated her as a woman instead of the little sister most of the boys their age saw her as. It was a nice change.

"Am I first?" called out a familiar voice. Hamish, his face ruddy with recent exertion, popped around the fence and grinned as he took in the still-empty practice yard. "I am!"

Tessa laughed at her cousin's disheveled state. "You're always first. Did you run here all the way from the dock to beat the others? Your face is as red as your hair."

"And yet no as red as yours." He pulled at her braid before picking up one of the swords. He wasn't old enough to bring his own; Darius didn't allow it before age fifteen, and Hamish wasn't quite there yet. "By the way, Colm can't come today. He said to tell you."

"Has he no got a loke?" she muttered, not quite under her breath, as Darius fixed her with a pointed look. Fortunately, the other students arrived at that moment all in a gaggle, providing a distraction. She led them through their basic exercises, then Darius pulled out Hamish and one other boy to practice individual sparring while she handled the lower level pupils herself. Although they were all in the twelve to sixteen range, they varied widely in ability, some having been taking the class for years while others had barely begun. There were no other girls. Despite her efforts, she'd never convinced a member of her own sex of the fun in swinging a sword. Mary had tried once or twice, ended up on her arse, and declared it a sport for barbarians.

Darius called an end to class as the sun touched the top of the forested hills that surrounded the river valley. They had to give the students plenty of time to catch the last ferry, as night ferries only ran on weekends and special occasions. The vast majority of the population of Ruy lived across the Blue River in New Inverness and its surrounding communities; the village of River's Bend, where Tessa and Ric had grown up, had fewer than a thousand inhabitants, most of them farmers, landowners who preferred a rural homestead, or eccentrics. Her father, in fact, owned the single year-round shop in the village.

Tessa walked home alone, declining Darius' offer of an escort so she could loke Colm in privacy. When his holo popped up in front of her, she cut it off, and he chuckled as he spoke. "Uh oh. What did I do?"

"You didn't show up to class—again. Darius is getting annoyed."

"Darius isn't paying me enough to get annoyed."

"But he is paying you. When you show up, that is. Why didn't you loke me? Or him, for that matter?"

Colm sighed. "You're right, I should have. I suppose I'm still somewhat terrified of him. Do you think he could actually kill me through the locator?"

Tessa laughed despite trying hard not to. "He may find a way if you keep disappearing."

"In all seriousness, I may have to quit. My father is demanding more of me lately, and you're a better teacher than me, anyway. He ought to be paying you."

"He will, when I turn eighteen."

"So in less than two weeks, then."

"Right." In truth, Tessa hadn't thought about her upcoming birthday in the aftermath of Da's health crisis. They'd never made a big fuss of holidays anyway, except Christmas, of course. The holiday loomed over her now like an unwelcome visiting giant. She had no money to buy anyone anything, except Ric, and as always had to resort to last minute portraits and sculptures while her more wealthy friends and relatives lavished her and Da with things they often needed but couldn't have afforded otherwise. It was rather embarrassing, but she knew she should be grateful and so never made a peep about it to her father.

"Are we done, then?" said Colm, and she jumped. She'd forgotten he was there in her reverie.

"Aye. I'm almost home. I'll loke you later."

Colm laughed. "You only called to scold me? Perhaps we're getting too familiar."

"Perhaps. We could cancel for tomorrow and you could have dinner with Anabel instead."

"Ha! She'd rob me blind before the appetizers came out. There's only one thing that interests that girl and it's no my delightful personality."

"I'm no so sure about that. The way she looks at me now I'm lucky she doesn't have stun flinters for eyes."

"Her meal ticket has been stolen," he said, laughing again. "Goodbye, Tay. I'll pick you up tomorrow at four."

After she and Quin ate supper and cleaned up, she went upstairs to take a shower and retire early. The bottom floor of their house held the shop, its storeroom inventory, and a kitchen, while the top featured two small bedrooms, the toilet, and a narrow, long room they facetiously called the ballroom but used for lounging, as it was useless for any other function. When they had actual parties, they cleared room in the shop.

She took her hair down and frowned as she tugged a comb through the unruly red waves, somehow tangled despite the braid she'd worn most of the day. She had a mind to hack it off but dared not do it herself. Mary had a touch for such things; she'd ask her next time she saw her. As she folded the hair at the back of her head with one hand and stood in front of her bedroom mirror, trying to see how short she could go without looking ridiculous, an old, familiar chill began to creep up her spine.

She dropped her hair and turned slowly, dread stealing her breath even as she hoped she'd see nothing. But her luck wasn't that good, and the shimmering figure in front of her moved, as it always did, with no awareness that they occupied the same space. It seemed to be gesturing this time, although it was hard to tell due to the rainbow-like streaks that accompanied its movements, as though it were perpetually trapped in a dimension just beyond hers.

Then, without warning, it ran towards her. She yelped and leapt aside just in time as it passed. She got the sense it was in a terrible hurry as it cut across her bedroom and vanished into the wall. She stared at the wall, frozen to the side of the bureau she'd jumped against, not daring to move yet lest the figure return. Presently, her father knocked on her door, and she was forced to unglue herself from the furniture.

"Are you all right?" Quin was regarding her with worried eyes, no doubt having a good idea why she screamed, but hoping as she had that it wasn't that.

She took a deep breath, trying to collect herself. "I'm fine. It's nothing. I just scared myself." She had to stop there, because she was a terrible liar, and any story she invented would sound as unbelievable as the truth.

"You're no having the visions again, are you?"

She saw in his face what he wished her to say, so she said it. "No, Da. No visions."

"Good. Enough for one of us to be bothered with delusions, aye?" His obvious relief and the accompanying joke tore at her heart.

"Aye," she said, forcing a laugh. She grabbed her nightgown and squeezed past him into the narrow hallway that ran the length of the ballroom and ended at the toilet. "I'm needing a shower before bed. Goodnight, Da." She heard him bid her goodnight before she slammed the toilet door behind her and collapsed against it in tears. I'm no crazy, she told herself. It's no a delusion. It's real.

She had always, since she was a child, believed what she was seeing was real, albeit some phenomenon she didn't understand. After being mocked for seeing "ghosts" she'd learned long ago not to tell other people, aside from her father and occasionally Ric. But now for the first time she wasn't sure, not after what had happened to Quin. Maybe she was crazy. Maybe they were both crazy. Hereditary craziness. She let out a small, hysterical laugh, and clapped a hand over her mouth lest her father hear. Then she took the scissors from the cabinet beside the shower and cut off thirty centimeters of her hair.