Carousel Seas (35 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

FRIDAY, AUGUST 4

HIGH TIDE 7:13
P.M.
EDT

MOONSET 12:02
A.M.

The crowd was light for early August; on the other hand, it was good to have a crowd at all.

I slowed the carousel and rang the bell to signal the end of the ride, then turned to the first in line by the gate.

“Two tickets, please,” I said to the gray-haired woman.

“Cheap at half the price,” she answered, putting the tickets into my hand.

I grinned. “Be just a sec ’til they clear the field.”

“No problem at all,” she assured me. “I’m feeling lucky; I practically have the place to myself. I figured there wouldn’t be room to move, this late in the summer. I’m glad I took a chance.”

“We’re glad you did, too,” I told her, sincerely.

Once the tides stopped bringing in more, the beach cleaners started making real progress with getting the weeds and the dead fish off the beach. Seaweed and dead fish being prime organic matter, it all got hauled up to Public Works, where, word came down, it was starting in to producing next year’s compost.

Once the beach was clean, and the waves returned to duty, the tourists—those who hadn’t canceled on hearsay—stayed.

So—bad as it had been, it could’ve been worse, and if we could stay open for the Extended Season, the carnies might even have enough money to live comfortably through the winter.

The jury was still out on that, though. The town’s finance officer had liked the Chamber’s proposal and given the green light for a presentation to the town council. The council was still deliberating, though. Dan Poirier’s office let out that they were confident, but most of the folks I’d talked to agreed that they were bound to say so, adding that the council was known for dragging its feet.

The Human Resources Department, in stark contrast, had moved at the speed of light, and Cael Wolfe was the town’s newest Animal Control Officer, pending completion of training, which he was slated to start next week.

I rang the bell and turned to take tickets from the folks in line.

“Hey,” yelled a red-haired boy as he mounted the deck. “I want to ride the horse that has
wings
!”

* * *

The whistle blew on the stroke of midnight, and the park was clear not many minutes later.

I pulled the gate closed behind me and slid the lock home, noting the weight of someone on the land almost directly behind me.

“Felsic,” I said, easily.

“Kate,” she answered. “Got a minute?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“This is.”

She handed me a manila envelope.

A chill swept me, and I looked at her closely, the land enhancing my sight.

“Open it,” she said, and the strain in her voice matched the strain in her face.

I opened it, handling the papers carefully—Social Security card, drivers license, birth certificate, all made out in the name of Frances Eleanor Sicot. I slipped the papers back into the envelope and handed it back to Felsic.

“Congratulations. I think.”

“That’s said well. But—why this—why
now
? If making me Guardian-next is the cause, I don’t want either. Well,” she said, with slightly less heat, “I didn’t want Guardian-next before this come in.”

I could see her point.

“I don’t know what triggers something coming in,” I confessed. “But, if we build on the theory you spun Cael, about those who have
wide service
win an envelope, then my guess is one of three things rang this in, now.

“One, the Guardian’s heir thing—for which I apologize, but—”

“But, you were short on time, an’ I would do, with the land liking me, like it does.” She sighed and pushed her hat back on her head. “What’s two?”

“Your relationship with Peggy,” I said promptly.

I felt the shock of that hit her. She stood frozen for a couple of heartbeats before nodding brusquely.

“And three?”

“You were ready. The land trusts you, the land, as you say, likes you, and you’re bloody-minded enough to keep it in line.”

“My service . . .”

“I’m thinking this is in the way of
in addition to
, rather than
instead of
.”

Another long moment of silence, followed by a sigh.

“What’m I gonna tell Peggy?”

“Well, I don’t know what you’ve already told her, but in this instance, I’d suggest the truth. Peggy’s tough; she can See—and hear—and she loves you.” I hesitated, then added, “If she has any particular questions about the Enterprise, you can refer her to me, if you want.”

“Might just do that.”

She slipped the envelope down the front of her shirt, and sighed again. “Kate?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you come home to us.”

I gave a soft laugh.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

* * *

I parted from Felsic at Fountain Circle, and walked over the sand to the water line. Neptune’s was rocking tonight with two bands, one of which would, by audience acclaim, go on to become a contestant in the Epic Battle of the Bands! scheduled for Friday and Saturday nights. Guitars howled and singers did, too, drowning out the soft sound of the low-tide surf.

There were a goodly number of people on the beach, walking mostly, and talking quietly. Some moved along energetically; some strolled. All walked without fear of stepping on something nasty in the dark.

I stood on the wet sand, the toes of my sneakers on the tide line.

“Miss you,” I whispered, and felt the breeze like fingers against my lips.

The waves lapped the sand, and retreated; drums rattled and guitars roared. A couple passed between me and the water, holding hands, and speaking in murmurs.

Nothing else happened.

Well, of course not. I didn’t need him—not really.

I just . . . wanted him.

The land performed its version of sticking a wet nose in my ear and huffling. I half-laughed, and pushed it back, yanking on its ears. Then, the two of us turned and ambled up the beach, under the Pier, on the way to Dube Street.

There weren’t many people on the north side of the Pier. To my right and up a block or two, I saw three teenage boys playing with a glow-in-the-dark Frisbee, and, ’way up-beach, what might be a family group walking in a loose gaggle. Between me and them, the beach was empty.

No, not quite empty.

Some blocks away—say, right at the Dube Street intersection, if Dube Street ran all the way down to the sea—stood a tall form, hands in pockets, facing down toward the Pier.

The land gave an excited shout, and pelted ahead.

I was too dignified to shout, but I did run. In fact, I ran so fast, I might possibly have become airborne in those last few moments.

Borgan caught me in mid flight. I wrapped my legs around his waist, caught his face between my hands and kissed him, thoroughly.

He cooperated with enthusiasm, which left us both pretty much breathless, and probably having scandalized the youth of America.

“Hey, there,” he said, his voice shaking.

“Hey, there, yourself.” My voice wasn’t so much shaking as quivering in and out of incompatible ranges. “How are you?”

“You gotta ask that, maybe I should kiss you again.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Can you stay?”

“I think I might manage—”

A noise like no noise I had ever heard—a noise that maybe a thousand harpies screaming in unison could have produced—split the sky and the peace of Archers Beach. I screamed in reflex and covered my ears, but that was worse than useless. Borgan slammed to his knees, his face pressed into my chest. I felt him trembling. The land howled, and a vision of the carousel swung crazily inside my head,
jikinap
boiling off of it in streamers of wet colors.

The ungodly racket stopped.

I wilted in Borgan’s arms, my head on his shoulder.

“What d’you expect that was?” he asked.

“The carousel.” I straightened, his arms tightened. “The Wise—oh, God; the Wise . . .”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

“Hold tight,” I whispered, and we were there, Borgan kneeling on the concrete floor, and the enclosure full of burning
jikinap
and the stink of too much power. I gagged; it was like trying to breathe toxic gas—and suddenly there was a breeze, fresh and damp, shredding the clouds of poison.

I extended my will, snapped open the lock on the gate and thrust the storm walls back.

Fire sparked around us; mustard-colored gas swirled, and through the shredding yellow fog came Mr. Ignat’, Arbalyr the not-Phoenix on his shoulder and Gran at his side.

Borgan set me gently on my feet and rose.

“Katie!” Gran grabbed my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“If we don’t count terrified, I’m perfectly fine.”

“What happened?”

“The carousel . . .” She and I turned toward it. I stepped into Side-Sight, but there was nothing to see. By which I mean . . . there was no spellcraft to see.

Which was wrong. I should at least be seeing the binding spells I’d made to hold the non-prisoners, but—the bindings were gone; the fake soul-glow was quenched.

“The Gate,” Gran murmured.

I threw my will out in the way I’d been taught, and triggered the Gate.

Power struck, flared, and rebounded, knocking me off my feet, and back into Borgan. He caught me around the waist and held me gently against him.

“So, news of the latest transgression got to them early,” I said.

“What about that war you an’ the
lahleri
told me about, happening between the Worlds? That’s all they have to know; they’re sealing up all the holes they know about.”

I wondered what the hell a
lahleri
was, but held to the point.

“Prince Aesgyr and his allies had a head start; to make more and better holes.”

“Well reasoned, Pirate Kate,” Mr. Ignat’ murmured. “Aesgyr will have prepared egress points well ahead of mounting any attack.”

The land whined, showing me shadows moving in the night; moving toward the carousel. I shifted and Borgan let me go, to turn and face the
trenvay
of Archers Beach, and a smattering, too, of those others, who heard the music at Midsummer Eve.

Felsic was there, her arm around Peggy’s waist, Vornflee and Moss behind them. I saw Joan Anderson, and Daddy; Nancy . . . and the land reported more coming in, gathering outside the enclosure.

“Kate, what happened?” That was Felsic.

“The Wise have closed the World Gate,” I said, willing the land to carry my voice to everyone gathered. “We’re cut off from the other Five Worlds.”

“We are,” Gran cried, from the deck of the carousel itself, her voice carrying effortlessly to every corner of the crowd.

“We are free! We are no longer forced to be jailers! We are no longer subject to the whim of the Wise! It’s been a long time coming, my friends, but we’re free at last!”

The cheer that greeted this was almost as noisy as the closing of the Gate, and I leaned back into Borgan and sighed in sheer relief.