A Thread of Time: Firesetter, Book 1 Read online

  “In whose ear shall you whisper?” I asked, on our third date, when Lioter took me to a pub near my old university campus.

  Initially, I had been hesitant to return, afraid to see again my learned former companions. I dressed overly well for that evening, wearing my most expensive outfit from a high-fashion shop and clinging tightly to Lioter's arm for he looked quite grand.

  Speaking with the refined, noble accent of one who lived in a palace apartment which faced the sea, Lioter smiled at me and raised his glass of beer.

  “I shall whisper into the ear of the next king,” he declared. “To Marko Korelesk, who shall succeed our own hapless, but beloved, Mikal, when he passes from this world to the next.”

  “How can you be so certain that either event shall come to pass?” the gentleman resting upon the barstool next to Lioter interrupted our conversation. “Mikal may be hapless, but at last check, he seemed quite healthy.”

  “I beg to differ, sir,” my date replied, swiveling around so that his back was to me. “Have you seen Mikal lately? His looks are dreadful. He hangs his head like a lost dog, his shoulders bent already in defeat. I have heard his voice never raises above a mumble, and when he speaks, his words are barely comprehensible. My lord, Duke Marko Korelesk, on the other hand, brims with energy and good health.”

  “Is that so?” the gentleman replied, sipping his own glass and staring reflectively in the mirror. I glanced around Lioter, but could see nothing of his neighbor's features, for the gentleman was wearing a dark cloak and large hat. However, his voice was vaguely familiar, and at first, I believed him to be a professor that I had known. “How come you to know so well of either man, young friend?”

  Lioter smiled and leaned back upon his stool, already having swallowed more beer than he should. He proceeded to wax eloquently of the esteemed positions of his forbears, as well as his own efforts to insinuate himself in the service of Duke Marko.

  “I am already a good friend of the Duke's Chief of Staff,” Lioter bragged, “Even though I am an under-under secretary to the King.”

  “So, you are a spy of sorts,” the gentleman concluded, while I decided that Lioter's revelation to this stranger was a bit imprudent.

  “I suppose so,” Lioter chuckled, and waved for another glass. “You seem intelligent, sir, and your accents speaks of noble lineage. If you would like, I could introduce you to the Duke's service. I require only a tiny recompense for this favor, which undoubtedly as a man of obvious high blood, you shall reap a great benefit from this acquaintance. Perhaps, when King Marko sits the throne, you shall be a Lord Advisor.”

  The stranger laughed wholeheartedly, setting down his cup. Rising to his feet, he tossed three coins upon the counter.

  “You assume that I am not of the nobility already?”

  “If you were, why would you be wasting your time and precious coins on this dreadful beer?” Lioter shook his glass. “You would be drinking the finest brews at the Imperial Palace, where the pubs are much nicer than this.”

  “Indeed,” the stranger replied. “But, this pub is far more entertaining. Look how I have had the good fortune to become acquainted with you and the lovely lady sitting by your side. For the pleasure of your company, allow me to pay for your beer.” Then, he tipped his head to me and began to walk away.

  “Ha!” Lioter declared. “We are in luck.”

  “No, we aren't,” I replied, for my blood had suddenly gone cold.

  As the stranger departed the busy pub, I realized who he was. I recognized the cloak, for it was my own handiwork upon the hem, and the shiny onyx buttons, which graced his cuffs, matched the lost one in my pocket.

  Lioter was executed three days later, after a rapid trial for treason and a sentencing at the behest of the King. I was spared, although I knew not why. I returned to work and I slept in my shared bed, but I did not walk the gardens or wander the city alone. I was afraid. Someone was following me.

  Each time I turned my neck, I spied a shadow in the corner of my eye. After a week unable to sleep and jumping at every sound, I was summoned into the King's office by a guardsman.

  “Oh my! What is that about, I wonder?” the Head Seamstress muttered, as I rose from my sewing table to follow the guard.

  He escorted me into the Big House, the building in which the King resided, and guided me up a marble staircase to a heavy, ornate door. From there, I was admitted into an office, followed by another where I sat in a plush leather chair and waited for an hour.

  By the time I was granted entrance into the King's inner sanctum, I was ready to faint from both fear and exhaustion, but I didn't. I held my back straight and my head high as I walked in. After all, my grandmother had been a Royal Seamstress to his mother.

  King Mikal sat behind an immense and elegant wooden desk upon which were piled stacks of papers. Behind him were windows gazing out at the sea. To my left was a fireplace with an immense stone hearth. Directly in front of the fire, a man was reclining on a sofa. He smiled while raising a glass of amber wine as if in toast to me. Dutifully, I curtseyed firstly to the King and then, the gentleman.

  “Ailana,” the King said. “Ailana of Farku in the Duchy of Korelesk, from the tiny Karupta ghetto, upriver from the sea.”

  I raised my eyes to his face and recognized the gentleman from the fountain bench, nearly a year past.

  “Pleased to meet you, Ailana of Farku,” the nobleman from the sofa declared, tipping back his head and swallowing the liquid from his cup. “Come closer so I may see you. From this distance, you are quite pretty, but your name bespeaks a Karut, which personally, I don't favor.”

  I looked again to the King, who nodded and bid me cross the floor.

  “You don't realize what you miss, Marko,” the King replied, rising to pour his own glass. “And, I believe your blood of the motherland is even less diluted than mine.”

  Marko, Duke Korelesk, laughed heartily and smiled, bringing his cup again to his lips. I found him repulsive, his overbearing stomach which nestled like a large ball upon his hips, and his jowls which swung from side to side as he moved his mouth. His hair was long and thin, and although, I assumed his hygiene was well kept, his tresses appeared unwashed, and direly in need of a cut and style. Only the Duke’s eyes were interesting, for they were so light as to almost be devoid of color, but now they judged me harshly with no pleasure.

  “Don't remind me,” the Duke scoffed, as the King refilled his cup. “She is pretty, Mike. A beautiful smile, above all else. Show me your teeth, girl. I always look upon my filly’s teeth before I mount.”

  Dutifully, I forced my lips upward, although my feet, like a filly’s were inclined to kick.

  “Very pretty” the Duke repeated, “but, rather skinny. Surely, you have a mare or even a colt in your stable who can offer me a better ride.”

  “This one is unbroken. I thought you preferred them that way.”

  “Ah! Well, perhaps now, I might reconsider.”

  “Nay. You, a new father of a strapping son, must be dutiful to your wife for a least a week.”

  “Ach. If I am lucky, she will perish quickly of the Disease. As to my son, had he not arrived with a cock, I would have thought him born a girl. You do not realize how fortunate you have been, Mike. I should gladly change places, just say the word. Ah, how I wish I was like you, unattached and unfettered.”

  The King chuckled. “How you wish you might change places and wear my crown.”

  Now, the Duke laughed and his eyes once again surveyed my body.

  “Perhaps, I will take her. The more I gaze upon her, the more I like.”

  Too late.” The King waved his hand, much to my relief. “Leave us now, Marko. You may find the barn beyond the fence to the south of the main gate. There we have a donkey and an ass or two that you might enjoy. You may stay, Mistress Ailana of Farku. I should like to speak with you alone.”

  The Duke chuckled and leered as if the King’s intentions were not honorable.

  “Let
me know how it goes, cousin,” the duke called, rising to his feet and strolling to the door. “If you change your mind, I suppose I can close my eyes. All cats are black at night, even Karut ones.”

  I was not sorry to see the Duke depart, although I grew nervous alone in the King’s presence. I shouldn’t have. Why, we had met already thrice before, and each time, the King had treated me with respect. However, he had swiftly and bloodthirstily executed my friend, Lioter, so despite his calm demeanor and appearance, I would not let down my guard.

  “Would you care for a drink, Ailana of Farku?” he asked, offering me a glass, a tiny smile playing upon his lips. “Please. It is the least I may do for having forced you to come to this dark and dreary office. Can you feel the ghosts surrounding us? There are so many, it is nearly impossible to breathe. One must fortify themselves, lest we let them infect our souls.”

  “The ghosts?” I accepted the cup and sipped slowly of the amber liquid. It went straight to my head and made me cough, but also filled my tongue with boldness, much more so than it should have.

  “This was my great-grandfather’s office, the Great Emperor. Of course, you know of whom I speak. If you were summoned here it was either because he liked you, or because he meant to dispatch your soul himself. Let me tell you, there were very few he liked. Beneath this fine carpet, many red stains cross these floors. Now, why don’t you tell me what you know of Korelesk’s plans.”

  “And, if I refuse, do you mean to dispatch me? I find little difference in your treatment of my friend, Lioter, and the conduct of your esteemed, but violent ancestor. Perhaps, you resemble him in more ways than just your looks.”

  For a moment, the King seemed taken aback. His dark eyes narrowed and at first, his mouth turned down.

  “You are a brazen little one, aren’t you?” he murmured, breaking into a smile. “It is a trait of those who hail from the motherland. But, I have asked you a question. Now, I bid you take advantage of the hospitality I have extended. Seat yourself upon my sofa, and tell me what you know.”

  He strolled over to the hearth and stood with his back to me, contemplating the flames and the shadows they cast upon the walls. I took a place upon the sofa across from where the Duke had been, watching the King from beneath my lashes, as he waited for information I did not have.

  Mikal was always a handsome man, in the manner of his forbearers, but his eyes were dark and filled with disappointment. Despite the differences in our station and age, and despite his poor treatment of my friend, I found myself gazing upon him with pity, for clearly he was unhappy in this life.

  “I know nothing,” I told him, as convincingly as I could. “I have not met the Duke of Korelesk before this day.”

  “But, your friend, the spy knew him quite well. Are you certain you had not made the Duke’s acquaintance in his company?”

  “No! I knew nothing of Lioter’s friends or political leanings, as our conversations were always quite innocent and of no particular topic.”

  “What did you discuss in these conversations?”

  “I don’t recall,” I replied honestly. “Not much of anything. Perhaps, we discussed flowers as we walked about the gardens in the evenings.”

  “Flowers?”

  “He appreciated the vast collection in the rose garden.”

  “Roses,” the King repeated and upon his lips there grew a smirk. “I believe you, Miss Farku, for you are far too innocent to engage in games of high intrigue. You may finish your wine and depart from my company.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” I said, swallowing the dregs at the bottom of my glass. “Might I ask what you were doing in the pub that night? Surely, there are finer establishments where a man of your station might enjoy a drink?”

  “You are also presumptuous, Miss Farku,” the King laughed. He leaned against the hearth and reached into his pocket, extracting a cigarette. “Upon our first meeting, you criticized my desire to smoke, while on our second, you showed disdain for my choice of pubs.”

  “I mean no offense, Sir,” I cried. “I was merely curious as to why you would venture to that part of town. And, this is our fourth meeting, for you did collide with me in the garden, knocking me into a rose bush early in the spring.”

  “Did I? I beg your pardon.” He drew back upon his cigarette, studying the pattern of the smoke as he exhaled it. I watched it as well, before my eyes focused upon that lock of curly hair that was forever misplaced upon his forehead.

  “I enjoyed that pub when I attended the university, and it pleases me to venture out without pomp and circumstance. I tend to learn important rumors there, such as the gossip spread by your late-friend’s tongue. I had known Marko was scheming against me, but I did not realize to what extent. That one evening proved to be quite valuable.”

  “I knew nothing,” I insisted again.

  “I understand that now.” The King blew a ring of smoke into the air. “I could see in Marko’s eyes that he had never encountered you before. Thank you, Ailana. You have finished your drink and so you are dismissed.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” I rose. Dipping into a curtsy, my wayward tongue continued to speak. “I am sorry your cousin plots against you. I have a cousin who I do not favor, but she would not kill me, nor I her. That I am certain.”

  “That is because neither of you have a throne.”

  “We have only a sewing shop,” I conceded, which apparently filled the King with mirth.

  “Ach, cousins,” he chuckled, his dark eyes suddenly erupting with light. “We are nearly two centuries removed from his paternal ancestor, who tied us together in blood. Our relationship is distant and tenuous, but we dance about each other as if we once shared the same womb. Perhaps, we once did in another life. I beg your pardon, Mistress, for I delay you overly long from your own business.”

  “Oh no, Sir!”

  “Oh yes.” He waved a hand at the door, where a guard held it open for me to leave. However, before departing, I decided to inform the King that I was in possession of a button from his coat.

  “If you should like for me to fix it, I would be most honored, Sir.”

  “Perhaps, I shall,” he replied. “Now, goodnight.”

  Chapter 13

  Dov

  My father used to say that we were all one nation now. No longer were we segregated as the people of the motherland, different from those who had solely inhabited this continent before. Since the Great Emperor's time, nearly two centuries past, we were all the same, one blood, one race despite our ancestry.

  My mother would smile when my father spoke like this, for she believed it entirely untrue. She would whisper in my ear, “I wish everyone would think the same as him. Unfortunately, it is not so, and you must be wary, my little Dov. Despite your father's words, the others will always look upon you as one of us.”

  My mother was of the motherland, while my father was of Mishnah. They had met at the university in Turko only a year before my birth. Mama said the attraction was not immediate, for they were strongly different in both their appearances and thoughts. Papa was a dreamer, studying philosophy and pontificating on his every thought, while Mama was practical, studying mathematics.

  They met in a school cafeteria where Mama was working to pay for her tuition. Papa had plenty of money to pay for his, as he was descended from a branch of the noble family. In fact, my grandfather was the duke of a tiny province called Kildoo, and Papa had grown up with much wealth and servants to see to his every need.

  However, Papa became smitten by Mama's beauty and her intelligence, which might have been more than his. He chased her all over campus and won her love by taking her to a concert of her favorite band. After which, my grandfather disinherited Papa for his indiscretion.

  “Your grandfather is both elderly and foolish,” Papa declared, whenever I asked about this family I had never met. “He's a racist and a tyrant. You are better off never knowing him.”

  Unfortunately, without Papa's trust fund, we lived a pauper's life. Pa
pa was useless when it came to work, for he had never dirtied his hands before. In the past, his former title of Viscount Kildoo had opened doors to whatever he desired and without it, he discovered he was quite lost.

  Mama was hardworking and productive, but her degree required more years of study than they could afford. Every day she left before the sun arose to work until the afternoon, when she returned to the university to study until the moons were high. Papa tended the house and looked after me, when he wasn’t napping or arguing with the neighbors on the street.

  One day shortly after I turned six years old, Mama came home and spoke of people who had disappeared.

  “The Duke of Korelesk,” she said, referring to a man Papa called his cousin, Marko. “He means to exterminate my people. He means to kill us all. He blames us for the Disease and everything bad that has happened to our planet.”

  She pulled me on her lap and held me tightly so I would not be afraid of this cousin Marko or what he meant to do. As I leaned against her shoulder, I could feel the trembling in her body and this alone made me more fearful than ever before.

  “That's ridiculous,” Papa scorned. “We have nothing to fear.”

  This prompted Mama to shout at him that he was being naive and had always been so. She carried me off to bed, kissing my cheek and telling me not to worry, although by now, I was terrified of I knew not what.

  However, the strangest thing happened to me after that. While staring at my ceiling, at the crack that ran across it from door to window, I heard a voice inside the room. In fact, the voice sounded as if it was next to me in the bed. It wasn't that of either Mama or Papa, who were still shouting, banging chairs and smashing dishes on the kitchen floor. They called each other names and Mama wept while Papa swore, prompting the man in the flat above us to bang upon our ceiling.

  “Don't be afraid,” the voice next to me said. It was soft and sounded like a boy. “I shall be with you. I am waiting for you. It shall be soon. I am here.”