The Tea Machine (28 page)

CHAPTER 29

Loose shale shifted under Millicent’s
sandals. She lurched forward and would have fallen if not for Sangfroid who grabbed her elbow to keep her upright. They were standing on an incline high above a wide valley floor. The hillside was windswept and barren and dry, crumbling earth eddied around their feet like tidal water. This high up the valley, the landscape as strewn with boulders and drought-hardened, scrubby plants. It was hot and desolate, but below them the valley looked as lush and green as any Eden.

Olive groves shimmered a soft silver in the afternoon light. Dirt tracks criss-crossed the fields and followed riverbanks, knitting together the clusters of farm buildings and vineyards that dotted the valley. Wisps of blue smoke spiralled upwards from thatched roofs, and across the tops of the trees came the distant clang of herd bells. Towards the top end of the valley a group of sprawling buildings sat centred around a larger structure. The smoke over these buildings was dense and rose high before drifting away. All the meandering valley tracks eventually converged and headed towards this focal point.

“Let’s head for that village,” Sangfroid said. She pointed to the olive terraces, fifty feet or so below them. “There’s a track down there. We’ll follow it.” She offered her hand to Millicent as they began the slippery descent.

They reached the lower slopes quickly. The terrain was now less hazardous, and they could move faster. The greenery grew thicker, and insects droned contently in the clumps of wild lavender. The occasional bleat of livestock drifted up from the fields below.

“We’re not alone,” Gallo said quietly, staring straight ahead.

“Where?” Sangfroid kept walking, her gaze fixed ahead of her.

“Half a klick west.”

“What?” Millicent swept the hair from her damp brow and looked all around her. “What is clicking?”

“It’s a measure of distance. Be discreet.” Gallo nodded towards the rim of the valley. Millicent squinted into the late afternoon sun, seeing nothing but sunspots and dust motes. Then she saw him—a scruffy old man leaning on a shepherd’s crook. A few goats milled around him, and he had a look of abject horror on his face. He stared at them open mouthed.

“Hey. You,” Sangfroid called out. The old man turned heel and shot off down the hill.

“Hey,” Sangfroid yelled again, but the old boy was not for stopping. Goats scattered before him as he disappeared into the groves below.

“He looked very alarmed,” Millicent said.

“Yeah. Guess we look weird.” Gallo looked down at her clothes. She and Sangfroid were in the tattered uniforms they refused to set aside. Millicent still wore her tunic and sandals.

“I’m not so sure,” she said. “That old man had a tunic not unlike like mine. He was clearly not happy with us. I wonder what worried him so much.”

“We shouldn’t be here, and he knows it. I wonder who he’s run off to inform,” Sangfroid said. “We might have a meet and greet up ahead.” She shared a knowing look with Gallo. Millicent sighed. They had come to find a friend. Couldn’t it be nice, just this once?

They pressed on down the hill, following the track the old man had taken and keeping an eye open for any other valley inhabitants. The olive terraces flattened out quickly and soon they were walking through olive groves on the valley floor. What had looked like dirt tracks from above turned out to be irrigation ditches dusty with drought and choked up with straggly undergrowth. Cicadas filled the air with cheerful chirrups as Sangfroid led her party deeper into the groves in search of tree shade.

The first stone hit Gallo on the shoulder. With a grunt, she turned and immediately crashed off in the direction it had come from. More stones thudded on the ground around them. One struck Millicent on the thigh and the sting of it stopped her in her tracks. Sangfroid pushed her behind a tree for shelter.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes. It just stung a little,” she said, looking anxiously after Gallo. She had disappeared towards the nearest irrigation ditch.

“Stay there,” Sangfroid ordered and bounded off after Gallo. She had taken barely five paces away when the bushes rattled madly, and Gallo surged forward holding a small boy by the scruff of his neck.

“His friends scattered like rats in a barn blaze,” she said and gave the boy a shake. The youngster looked about the size of a barn rat in her grip. A miserable barn rat. He was sheet white, and his legs trembled so hard Gallo’s grip seemed to be the only thing holding him up.

“Never go into battle with a pack of weasels for back up.” She shook him again. “You’re only as good as the soldier standing next to you.” She shook him some more to emphasis his stupidity. “Remember that.”

“Where do you live, boy?” Sangfroid used her growly voice. The boy grew paler, and Millicent felt sorry for him despite the bruise rising on her thigh. He had to crane his head right back to look wide-eyed between Gallo and Sangfroid on either side of him.

“A…Are you giants?” he asked.

“Yes. And we eat our enemies.” Sangfroid scowled. Gallo picked up the cue.

“So what are you?” she demanded. “Friend, foe, or dinner?”

“Friend!” The boy responded quickly. “I didn’t mean it. Honest.”

“What do you think,” Sangfroid asked Gallo, still playing the game.

“I don’t need a friend.” She shrugged. “I am hungry though.” She rubbed her stomach. “Seriously, I am. It’s like I haven’t eaten in ages,” she told Sangfroid, who nodded in agreement. The boy trembled.

“What I do need is a scout,” Gallo added, as if in afterthought. “Someone who can navigate this valley from one end to the other. Someone smart who knows his way around.”

“I can do that.” The boy squeaked, but was ignored.

“Nice idea.” Sangfroid scratched her cheek. “But I’m feeling peckish, too. I could do with a small boy for lunch. Maybe even two! Where did your weasel friends go?”

Millicent suppressed a smile at the tactics.

“I live over there.” The boy pointed through the grove to where a puff of smoke spiralled idly on the breeze. “My mum will give you food.”

“Over there?” Sangfroid looked in the direction the grubby finger pointed. A dog barked, and the olive trees rustled expectantly. “Show me,” she said.

Gallo let the captive go, and he ran for his life. After several yards, he stopped and looked back to make sure they were following.

“It looks like we have a scout after all,” Millicent said. “Let’s hope the adults around here are more welcoming than their children.”

“If they’re not, then Gallo will shake ’em into surrender.” Sangfroid offered Millicent her arm while she worked the stiffness out of her thigh.

“Aye, Decanus,” Gallo answered happily. “Shake, rattle, and roar.”

“Mom!” The boy led them into the enclosed yard of a small holding. A couple of scrawny dogs barked but hadn’t the energy or interest to leave their shady spot to go snap at the strangers. Instead, their tails lazily thumped up clouds of dust and their tongues lolled. “Mom, I brought giants home for dinner.”

A tired looking woman came to the door. She didn’t look much older than her son.

“What is it now, Magnus? You know…” Her words trailed away when she saw his companions. She paled.

“Come here,” she said quietly and held out her hand for him to go to her side. He did so grudgingly, reluctant to move away from his trophies.

“I found them near the ditch,” he said, refusing to hold her hand. “They’re giants and they’re hungry. Can I be their scout? Can I?”

“Jana?” Millicent blurted in surprise. The woman was the spitting image of the girl from the tea temple. The woman stared back at her with no recognition.

“I am Jana, but I don’t know you,” she said. She was very respectful, even as she slowly edged herself between her child and her visitors. Her speech, looks, mannerisms, everything reminded Millicent of the Jana she had met at the temple baths.

“How strange,” she murmured. “It’s like people get recycled throughout these timelines.”

“She could be a direct ancestor of your friend,” Sangfroid pointed out. “We mean no harm, ma’am.” She stepped forward. “We just need some directions. We’re heading for the village to the north of here. Are we on the right track?”

“We’ve got to feed them, Mom, or else they’ll eat me.” Magnus refused to lurk behind his mother and came out from behind her to place himself firmly on the menu. Mother and child were both very thin. Jana being the gaunter of the two. To Millicent it was obvious just by looking around the yard that food and supplies—in fact,
everything
—was in short supply. These people were not well off. The farm buildings had a make-do-and-mend feel. The repairs she could see were shoddy and amateurish. A donkey standing in the shade of a lemon tree was so thin its ribs stuck out. Even the guard dogs were spent, panting among the bedraggled chickens whose grubbing in the dirt seemed the only industry about the place.

“Where is your husband,” Millicent asked, a germ of concern growing in her. The place was in too much disrepair. It was practically falling down.

Jana’s eyes hardened. “My husband has gone to fetch tea for She Who Must Be Brewed For,” she said with a bitter undertone that was hushed if not repentant.

“She who must be what?” Millicent asked.

“Brewed For,” Jana repeated. “She is our deity, and one year out of five, the men of the valley must go and serve her. They travel east to bring back her tea. It is a hazardous journey but each family must send an able bodied man.”

“She Who Must Be Brewed For?” Sangfroid said frowning.

“That’s Looselea, that is,” Gallo said cheerfully. “It’s the old name for her. Hey, we’ve found Sophia. That was easy.”

“I’m confused,” Millicent spoke quietly to Sangfroid. “This place is the tap root of the cult I saw in Rome. Now we’re hearing she is demanding servitude from the people who live in this valley. We need to find out exactly what Sophia is up to.”

“Can they stay to dinner, Mom?” Magnus whined, tugging on his mother’s arm.

Millicent noticed the dull colour on Jana’s cheeks as she awkwardly tried to hush the child.
There is no food to spare.
The thought both angered and humbled her. She felt a flash of anger at Sophia, dragging a working man away from his farm and leaving his family to struggle.

“Give them your food.” She pulled a linen napkin wadded around a hunk of roast beef from Gallo’s pocket. “They have nothing.”

Sangfroid began emptying her pockets, prodding Gallo to do the same.

“Where we come from,” she said, “giants bring dinner with them, and it’s not always small boys.” She winked at Magnus and got a big, gap-toothed grin in return. Jana’s face grew redder, but her eyes flashed at the abundance springing from her visitors’ pockets.

“You…you must sit and eat with us. Even if it is mostly your own food.” She sounded flustered and apologetic and directed them to a bench under the rickety veranda. She ducked inside her doorway and returned a moment later with a jug of wine, a rough homemade loaf, and a plate of olives.

Gallo and Sangfroid fit their long legs under the bench with difficulty. Millicent supposed they truly were giants to the small, undernourished woman and boy who regarded them warily from the other side of the table. Together they broke bread, and the tension eased as they shared their impromptu meal.

“Why don’t you eat the chickens?” Gallo asked bluntly, watching the old boilers pecking around the yard.

“We will. As soon as we get some chicks to replace them, but the cockerel has disappeared. I think a fox got him.” A thin thread of anxiety laced Jana’s words.

Sangfroid watched the expression on Magnus’s face as he bit into the beef. “Where are your nearest neighbours?” she asked Jana.

Millicent was reading Sangfroid’s mind; where was the community here? If the menfolk were routinely peeled away from their farms, surely friends and neighbours should rally round?

Jana gave a dry laugh. “My neighbours are in the same position as we are. Wives, widows, all trying to hold their rundown homes together until their sons and fathers and husbands return. But it’s been years now and still no word.”

“Years?” Millicent caught Sangfroid’s eye. How long had Sophia been here? There was obviously an anomaly in the time flow just as Hubert has predicted. Sophia had only been gone from her own time for several hours, yet here it was years. They had been in Rome for two days, but to Hubert it had been months. What would the impact of the years spent here be on Sophia? Millicent wished Hubert had travelled with them; he might have some ideas how to proceed.

“Can you tell us a little about She Who Whatsit?” Sangfroid asked.

“She came from the stars,” Jana began. Millicent snorted and quickly turned it into a cough. Jana looked at her speculatively before continuing. “And she chose this valley above all others because of the beauty of our goats—” Sangfroid’s snorting interrupted her this time, along with Gallo giggling quite openly into her mug of wine. Magnus giggled too, though he had no notion of the joke. “What?” Jana asked. “What’s so funny?”

“We know She Who Must Be blah blah,” Millicent said.

“And she’s not very fond of goats.” Gallo grinned widely.

“Well, she’s made a fine fortune out of them.” Jana snapped and immediately regretted her words. She looked furtively around, as if the olive groves were full of eavesdroppers.

“I take it you cannot speak openly,” Millicent said quietly. “Tell us what has been happening in the valley, Jana. Truly what has happened? Your words are safe with us.”

“Why are you here? People like you—”

“Giants, mom. They’re giants,” Magnus interrupted. “Not that one.” He pointed at Millicent who was the same height as his mother.

“They are not giants,” Millicent informed him primly. “They are very greedy soldiers who are too big for their boots.”

He immediately dropped his interested gaze to Sangfroid and Gallo’s boots.

As an afterthought, Millicent added. “And ignore their language. It’s unwholesome for young ears.”

“Why are you here?” Jana asked again, impatiently. “You say you know her. Does that mean you are gods, too?”