The Time Roads

Shortly after that came the queen’s response. Let us meet Thursday morning at nine.

In his message, De Paor had also named the location for their meeting—one of the larger, more lavishly appointed audience rooms. Was it a desire to keep his domain private? Or did the man simply like a showier stage for this audience? It would be too easy, Ó Deághaidh reminded himself, to misjudge the man on such petty grounds.

“Good day, Commander,” De Paor said. “I see you prefer early hours.”

“I do, my lord. Thank you for being so understanding.”

Tea and coffee were provided by servants, who discreetly withdrew. Ó Deághaidh stirred honey into his tea and studied his new subject with keen interest. A youngish man, with hazel eyes, and a fair complexion overspread with freckles. He wore his thinning hair swept back in the latest fashion. According to Ó Deághaidh’s sources, the queen had appointed Lord De Paor to his position just a year ago, when old Lord Ultach died of drink, or opium, as rumors would have it.

“I’ve been thinking how best to assist you,” De Paor said. “I have nothing to do with Montenegro, of course, but there is the matter of those Anglians.”

Ó Deághaidh nodded, continued to drink his tea.

De Paor rested a hand on a stack of bound files. “Those Anglians,” he repeated, somewhat at random. “It is a curious affair. If you think they would prove useful, I’ve collected our files on various organizations, suspected radicals and the like.”

The files contained numerous reports and analyses for all four Districts of the Dependencies, not just Anglia itself. Another folder offered a summary of the political groups with connections to the more radical Anglian dissidents, including a particular Franco-Prussian group known for violence against Judaic communities, which had tentacles throughout Europe.

“Indeed, these might prove very helpful,” Ó Deághaidh said as he leafed through the pages. “May I take these back to my rooms to study further?”

“Of course, Commander. If we are not safe in Cill Cannig, then we are safe nowhere. Do you feel you are making progress, then? I’m curious to learn if you’ve reached any conclusions about the queen’s affair.”

“If I have, my lord, I have set them aside for later.”

“Spoken like a scientist,” De Paor said. “Or a member of the Constabulary.”

“Hopefully some of both,” Ó Deághaidh said. “The queen has presented me with a tangled mystery.”

He went on to ask his own questions about the Dependencies in general and the political associations in particular. Lord De Paor proved to be as knowledgeable and helpful as Ó Deághaidh wished. No, he’d no reports about the illegal or excessive transfer of funds to points east. Yes, there were always dissatisfied parties, but he thought the ordinary citizen of the Dependencies disliked upsets and rebellions.

Ó Deághaidh politely declined an invitation to dine with Lord De Paor, instead taking a meal of soup and bread in his rooms. Two hours remained until his interview with Lord Ó Cadhla. He glanced over his notes, but soon gave it up and took off on a tour of the older public halls, hoping to settle his thoughts and recover his concentration.

It was a good decision. He had forgotten how lovely it was here, the exquisite mosaics laid down by the early kings, the portraits in the halls, the grace and balance of the arched passageways. He ended up in a small interior courtyard and stood before a fountain, whose waters leapt and tumbled within a marble basin. Sunlight glanced from the droplets, reflecting a rainbow of colors over the surrounding tiles.

Of course he knew the reason for his distraction—Maeve Ní Cadhla. He had already known about her taking a second degree with honors. Against his better judgment, he had followed the careers of her and everyone else connected with the nonexistent murders that haunted his memory. He knew about Paul Keller’s advances in electrical theory. He knew Evan De Mora had taken a position at Awveline University, only to leave after six months to join his friends Gwen Madóc and her brother at their institute. There was talk that their theories would transform how scientists viewed physics and the passage of time.

Aidrean Ó Deághaidh bent and touched the endless fall of water. The rhythm broke; the rainbow scattered. But when he removed his hand, the waterfall resumed as though nothing had happened. Very much like time itself, he thought. He could not say the same of his own life, interrupted so abruptly by madness. He wondered what Doctor Loisg would say to this train of thought.

He dried his hand on a handkerchief, then set off for his appointment with Lord Ó Cadhla.

Less than two days had passed since they had last spoken. In that time, the other man appeared to have aged remarkably. The lines and folds in his face had multiplied, and though Ó Cadhla’s gaze was as keen as ever, there was a weary, restless air about him, as though he had spent the past few days searching for answers, and did not like what he had found.

“You are troubled, my lord,” Ó Deághaidh said.

“So are you, Commander. I find that strangely reassuring. Have you given much thought to how to approach this assignment?”

“Only that it requires discretion, my lord.”

Ó Cadhla gave a dry laugh. “You always did understate the matter. I have several suggestions in that direction, if you would care to hear them. Yes? Very well, let us take as given that your movements will be observed, even before you leave Cill Cannig and Osraighe. So. We cannot help that. However, we can provide you with a different, more innocuous reason for your visit to the Continent. I spoke with the queen, and she agrees you might act as a private courier to Frankonia’s new king.”

Ó Deághaidh listened attentively to Lord Ó Cadhla’s proposal. He would spend a few days in Frankonia’s Court, ostensibly on business for the queen. If he had the opportunity to visit on friendly terms with other members of Frankonia’s Court, he should take it. The length and manner of his stay would be at his discretion. But on his return to the airfields outside Paris, he would slip into anonymity, taking care to mislead and misdirect those who watched.

“And they will watch,” Ó Cadhla went on. “If only because you are well known, and on the queen’s business. Just as we watch those who enter Éire.”

His office would supply the necessary papers, he said, along with names of trusted agents in each country. Ó Deághaidh made no objections—Ó Cadhla’s suggestions were sound ones—and they spent the full afternoon and half the evening reviewin

g the first few weeks of Ó Deághaidh’s proposed journey.

Not once did either mention the name Kiro Delchev.