The Time Roads

“I must,” I repeated. “I must go, Commander.”

He gave over arguing, but I could sense his reluctance all through the ride from Cill Cannig to Osraighe. Perhaps he knew me too well to continue his objections. Or perhaps we had once more resumed our roles as queen and minion, and not friend and friend.

The church bells were ringing two o’clock when we arrived at our destination. A dozen guards stood watch in the square. My own took their positions around me as I walked the circuit. Our footsteps echoed from the paving stones, and the air continued to vibrate from the clangor of bells, but the night was otherwise quiet and still. The sharp cold of winter had softened with the approach of spring, and even in this city square, there came the hint of green growing things. A full moon shone overhead, casting shadows ahead of me.

I knew the square well—it was one of the wealthier districts inhabited by the directors of Éire’s banking concerns, certain influential members of Éire’s Congress, and various heads of the great merchant and trade houses. With one terrible weapon, the Anglian rebels could destroy much of Éire’s economy and government.

At the northern edge of the square, I paused. Why had this attack failed? Or were these reports, and even my commander’s impressions, merely the product of terror itself?

I turned back toward Aidrean …

… the ground underneath me tilted. I fell backward into a deep pit. My guards had vanished. Torn bodies surrounded me, the earth was soaked in their blood. I tried to scrabble upward through the mass of dead, but the flesh dissolved into a mist between my fingers …

I staggered backward. Aidrean Ó Deághaidh caught and steadied me. My vision had blurred and it seemed the stars and moon had shifted in the sky. “Aidrean,” I whispered. “Did you see?”

“I did. Look again, Your Majesty. Look.”

I looked.

And saw a quiet moonlit square untouched by violence.

But in the air, I felt the breath and whisper of the future.

* * *

We proceeded to Loch Garman in the motorcar. Within a few miles of the coast, I could see the blood-red glimmer of the fires. By the time we reached the city walls, the air was thick with smoke and ashes. We passed through broad avenues lined by dark houses, then looped around King’s Street to the harbor itself. As we approached the site where the device had exploded, we passed squads of gardaí, wagons carrying away debris, and others transporting the injured to hospitals. Hundreds of lanterns illuminated the harbor walls, casting an uncanny light over the wrecked ships and shattered buildings, which continued to burn.

Osraighe’s vision made real, I thought.

“Have you seen enough?” Aidrean asked me.

“Not yet,” I replied, though a heavy knot had lodged beneath my heart. “Take me to the hospital, please.”

My visit was a brief one—long enough to walk the corridors of two wards. The light here was dim, except for a few shaded lanterns, and the nurses spoke in whispers. I paused by this bed and that one. One man lay awake and weeping. Two women, mother and daughter, lay in beds next to each other, hands clasped. The gardaí had discovered more victims in the ruined buildings, a surgeon’s aide told me in hushed tones. Fifty dead, and the morning might see more. I could not speak any words of comfort, so I said nothing at all. Throughout, Aidrean paced behind me, like a shadow in the moonlight.

* * *

We returned to Cill Cannig in the rising dawn. Outside the Royal Residence, we separated—he to gather the necessary reports for the Council, and I to scrub the scent of blood and ashes from my skin, while I considered how to meet this newest disaster.

The bells were ringing seven o’clock when I sat down with the men who acted as my closest advisers. Lord Ó Duinn and Lord Ó Tíghearnaigh. Lord Ó Cadhla. Lord Ó Breislin. Commander Ábraham, Chief of the Queen’s Constabulary. To their number I had added Lord Ó Luain, minister of finance, and the leaders of the two most influential factions in Congress. Lord Ó Bruicléigh had recently been elected as chief speaker. Lord Ó Rothláin, a wealthy industrialist, represented the opposition, though there were times I thought them both more in opposition to me than each other. Indeed, I had debated whether to include them. It was only the words of my mother about secrecy that finally convinced me to do so.

Secrecy is an insidious habit, she had told me more than once. Our Court is stitched and sewn from the cloth of intrigue. But you must learn to recognize when discretion is necessary, and when it has become a sickness.

But I would have to act carefully. Oh so carefully. I did not wish another Lord De Paor.

Síomón and Gwen Madóc were the next to arrive. Both wore dark, rumpled clothing, with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows, exposing curious scars, like silvery freckles, over their hands and arms. I had the impression they had worked through the night, and only reluctantly consented to break off their research at my secretary’s insistence. They circled the table to take seats at the far end.

A murmur of surprise rippled around the room at their appearance. I caught a flash of outright eagerness on Ó Tíghearnaigh’s face—as though he had sighted an enemy and wished to engage. Ó Breislin observed them with an air of expectation. Ó Cadhla glanced in my direction. His expression was closed, but I knew he had received an early report of the crisis through the Queen’s Constabulary. The rest had heard enough rumors to be frightened and suspicious.

They will soon be more frightened, I thought.

Aidrean Ó Deághaidh hurried through the door, followed by three of his chief aides, each of them carrying stacks of paper. They proceeded to distribute the papers to all those present, while Aidrean took the remaining open seat at my right hand side. (Another, quite obvious signal to those who attended.)

“Your Majesty,” he said. “I have grave news to report.”

He gave a summary of the night’s events in that flat tone I had come to associate with terrible news. The number of dead. The property destroyed. The probable effect on trade and international reputation.

“And further is the matter of future devices.”