Sloe returned to the Clock Tower breathless and panting. He’d run the whole way from Raven’s doorstep to Aboreal’s exit portal.
That was some seriously good healing balm. He grinned as he coiled his arms and legs, and then sprang forward from the tower, soaring into a double front flip and landing deftly on the balls of his feet.
So much faster than climbing back down, he thought, still too winded to mutter the words aloud. But that didn’t stop him from sprinting up the stairs to the tower’s upper rooms.
Ivory’s eyes widened when the door sprang open.
“Looks like someone’s feeling better,” she laughed. “Here, eat this.” She passed him a plate filled with slices of meat, fruits, and bread, along with a mug of hot liquid.
He picked up a slice of meat with his fingers and tore off a bite.
“Yes, my sweet?”
“That funeral we went to earlier,” he began, not believing that it was still the same day. It seemed a lifetime ago since he’d carried a broken Raven back through the Clock Tower portal.
“If Silvie Hall, the girl who inherited the healer’s legacy, isn’t from Chascadia, where is she from?”
Ivory chuckled. “After everything that’s happened tonight, you want to know about a girl? And not even the one you took home?” She gave him a mock serious look. “Haven’t you already had one bad date tonight?”
“I can’t believe you said that,” Sloe groaned.
“Good backup plan, though.” Ivory smirked. “Valcas’s daughter is a cutie.”
“Okay, okay, so here’s the story. Her mother, Calla Winston, was born on Earth and was also half Chascadian. Silvie’s grandfather was Calla’s father, both of which were Remnant Transports with healing abilities. Silvie’s father, Valcas Hall, was born at the White Tower, a world his parents—both World Builders—designed and built. Valcas’s father was from Earth and his mother was from Aboreal. Silvie, however, was born in a new world created by Valcas—he inherited the travel talent of world building, which was not much of a shocker given both of his parents had the trait.”
Sloe raised his eyebrows while sipping hot liquid from the mug.
“Anyway,” Ivory continued, “Valcas being the big, lovey softy we all suspected he was beneath the rough, unapproachable exterior, eventually decided he couldn’t live without Calla, and he built her a whole new world as a gift. It’s where the hospital is now, the one for the recovering Lost. Calla named the world after her time travel mentor, Edgar Hall. So, we all know it as the world of Edgar.”
That’s all I need to know, Sloe thought, smiling to himself. Edgar. He decided against digging for hints as to what the portal for Edgar looked like on the Clock Tower—what the timepiece for the world was. No reason to raise suspicion, even though it was a nice break from being asked what happened during his date with Raven.
“Interesting,” was all he said.
“So, Silvie Hall, huh? I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you to her earlier. We’ll need to go visit Valcas sometime.” She sniffed. “It seems we only see each other after someone has died. He has a son, too, a bit younger than you. But I didn’t see him at the funeral.”
“I think I did, but not until the reception. He sat next to Silvie.”
Ivory smiled. “Yeah? What did he look like?”
Sloe shrugged. “I don’t know…like any guy, I guess.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that, kid. Come on, give me the deets—hair color, eye color, something! I haven’t seen any of them since Calla’s funeral, and Javis was so young.”
He scrunched his face and frowned. “I honestly wasn’t looking at him all that much, Mom. Curly hair…brown, I think. Dark eyes.”
Ivory’s lips widened in a huge smile. “I’ll bet he looked like Calla did as a teenager. I should have gone inside to pay my respects, but I was just… I felt I should say something to Plaka, and—”
“I’m sure it’s fine, Mom.” He really hoped they, as a family, would not be visiting Edgar together anytime soon. Guilt twisted at the insides of his chest for what he had to do in Silvie’s world of Edgar, alone. And soon.
Ivory nodded and turned, suddenly absorbed in wiping something from her eye. She grabbed his mug and refilled it.
He’d slipped into a comfortable calm when Nick entered the room from his parents’ bedroom. The tall, gangly man sauntered over casually, placed a book on the table, and sat down. He cast a severe glance in his son’s direction as Sloe shoveled more food in his mouth.
Nick passed clenched fingers through his snow-white hair, the back of which was gathered in a tail.
“I take it your friend has made it safely home, son?”
“Yes,” Sloe mumbled through a mouthful of food. He washed it down with a long draft of liquid, the same broth Ivory had served Raven.
“Good.” He tilted his chin upward and waited, as if expecting an answer, though he hadn’t asked a question.
Sloe looked down at his food and then back up again. “What?”
Nick sat back in his chair; the blue sleeves of his shirt scraped the armrests along the way. He cleared his throat. “I’m waiting to find out whether your memory has healed as well as your bruises.”
Sloe exchanged a glance with Ivory.
“Oh no,” Ivory whispered under her breath. Her eyes rolled toward Nick.
“I was hoping your trip to Aboreal, and a dose of fresh air, would help you remember what world you traveled to, or at least which portal.” He sniffed. “Seeing as that was not the case, I’m simply waiting to learn whether your memory will have a remarkable return once the broth takes effect. So far I guess it hasn’t.”
Sloe chewed slowly before swallowing. “Dad…”
“No, really. It’s not a problem. I can wait. Don’t let my curiosity ruin your dinner. Let me know when you’re ready to talk.” He brought his book to his face and pointedly turned a page. “In the meantime, I’ll be content with my reading.”
Ivory scowled at her husband. “Passive aggressive much?”
She sighed. “Sloe, just tell us what happened. I mean, could you describe the two beings that attacked you? Were they animals? People? Was there anyone else there who saw what happened?”
The food inside Sloe’s stomach churned. He dropped the piece of fruit he’d touched to his lips. Sloe had never seen anyone turn green before; but in that moment, he was sure his face matched the color of the fruit.
“See, Nick, he’s still scared from being attacked. I’ve never seen him like this before.” She placed a hand to Sloe’s forehead, then wiped off the clammy moisture stuck to her hand. “I think you should go to bed, kid. Sleep this off, if you can.”
Sloe nodded. Unable to look at his dinner without wincing, he pressed his plate forward. He rose from the table and pressed his hands to his stomach.
“Not a bad idea. Goodnight.”
Nick frowned as he watched Sloe leave the room. Before his son stepped through the doorway, he called out, “I think you look quite well. But don’t lock your door tonight, just in case.”
Sloe ground his teeth together, angry at the dig that Nick had accented with a wink. He was tempted to turn around and say something, but he didn’t know whether his mother knew about the bedroom portal-door Nick gifted him to begin with. He was in enough trouble as it was.
He trudged downstairs, passed the shower closet and tore back the sheet that hung across his bedroom doorway. He muttered to himself as he paced.
“I absolutely have to go to Edgar tonight, if only to scope it out for when I go back. Then, figure out where both portals are located, gain my bearings, and come up with a plan. Soon. I have no idea where Silvie lives or where she keeps the baglamas.”
Sloe fell backward and landed on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, frustrated. I’m not much of a spy, and I have no idea how I’m going to pull this off. Raven’s smiling face filled his mind. I have no choice.
He lay like that until he no longer heard footsteps or chatter from the upper rooms. He tiptoed out of his bedroom, sighing when he stopped in the doorway. Now that his door was gone, it would be absolutely obvious, now, to his mother that he was not in his room. He squeezed his forehead with his hands. Think. Think.
“The shower closet has a door,” he muttered. He opened the door and flipped the light switch. The overhead lamp glowed orange. “If they come down to check on me, maybe they’ll think I’m in there.”
He stepped lightly past the staircase that led to the upper rooms and stepped outside.
The sooner I have the baglamas, the sooner I can get the cloaked men off my back, and life will go on. Hopefully, a life with Raven still in it.
Sloe ground his teeth, resisting the urge to rush. He climbed the Clock Tower with the lightest and slowest of steps.
His hands passed along the portals, gliding along Aboreal’s hourglass and Chascadia’s clepsydra, a type of water clock with a funnel through which water droplets dripped into a lower chamber. Neither timepiece responded to his touch; neither sang to him.
He continued reading the portals, searching for the one that represented Silvie’s world of Edgar.
A low hum trailed across the fingers of his left hand.
Sloe turned his head.
A glass timepiece, the shape of a teardrop, warmed and glowed beneath his touch. Sparks of rainbow light showered up from the center of the timepiece and veined outward, touching and trailing along its beveled edges.
Sloe sucked in a breath. This has to be the one. His stomach twisted with the knowledge that Silvie was only a portal’s breadth away. He’d already unlocked it. All he had to do was step through.
He sickened at the thought of arriving unannounced. But as long as the hooded man was out there, there was a threat on Raven’s life. His friend was not safe.
He was not safe.
If the cloaked men were able to build and destroy portals, then perhaps they could also destroy the Clock Tower’s timepieces, maybe even his home. The image of how easily his own father had erased the portal used as a bedroom door came to mind.
A chill ran along his fingertips and extended up along his arms to his elbows. He sucked in a breath and pushed his hands forward, and stepped through.
Bolts of electric sparks in blues and purples pulled and twisted and hummed, singing to him as he traveled from one world to the next.
Sparks faded, replaced by a warm glow. Three suns shone in the sky. Behind them sparkled silhouettes of smaller stars. Sloe rubbed his eyes, then squinted against the brightness of yellow and gold.
A blanket of flowers spread along the ground, surrounding him on all sides. He caught a breath of the fragrance that stung his nose, and paused to take it all in. Red, lavender, white, and blue flowers welcomed him. He smiled.
Two buildings, both with multiple stories, stood up against the golden backdrop of the horizon. One of the buildings gave off an industrial vibe, constructed in blues and grays, whereas the other looked like it could be someone’s home.
A healer, thought Sloe. And a Remnant Transporter. Could this be the hospital for the recovering Lost? The thought didn’t make him feel any better about the reasons why he was there. But, still, he was curious.
He plodded toward the house before changing his mind and turning to the right, in the direction of the hospital. His foot landed on something hard before he looked down to see what it was. The soft crunching of flowers beneath his feet gave way to something more solid. A path. He followed the path, lined on both sides with the sea of flowers, to the hospital.
Ice filled his veins when a person came into view, someone standing in the distance, staring back at him. A young woman with jet black hair and thin eyebrows raised up high—the girl he’d been searching for while reading the teardrop portal.
He stopped with a one foot slightly raised, his toe brushing the ground, wondering what he could possibly state as a reason for his appearance.