All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [7]
“Only a fifteen-minute walk,” Eliot said.
“I can see that,” Fiona replied.
Something was wrong about this. She ran her fingertips over the map. The rough cotton fibers had a texture that felt like woven canvas. It made her skin itch.
Of course there was something wrong. You’d have thought they might for once treat her and Eliot like adults. Instead of outgrowing their household rules, though, they still had 104 old rules plus new League edicts to follow (along with some veiled threats if they failed) and a bunch of Paxington regulations to worry about.
Audrey stood and told them, “You must be on your way. Now. You will require every minute.” Her face was unreadable.
Cecilia then emerged from the kitchen, a paper lunch sack in either hand. To Fiona’s utter embarrassment, their names had been written on the outside as if they were little kids.
Cee shook the bags. “Special lunches today,” she said, and smiled, “for my special darlings.” She gave one to Fiona and then Eliot, and hugged them both. “You’ll do fine today.” Her face darkened, and she whispered, “Remember to work with each other. You’re far stronger together.” Cecilia stood back and beamed at them. “Their first day of—”
“Which will be their last,” Audrey told her, “if they delay.”
“Oh, yes, silly me.” Cecilia backed away.
“Thanks, Cee,” Fiona said.
“Thanks,” Eliot said.
She and Eliot moved to Audrey and gave her a kiss on the cheek. To Fiona, this felt like one of her morning chores, like brushing her teeth or taking out the trash.
Eliot ran down the hall.
Fiona sprinted after him and got ahead, tramping down the spiral staircase first, and halted at the front door. “Too slow again,” she told him.
The front door was redwood and had four stained glass windows depicting a rose-hedge maze, a meander of river, a field of grapevines and harvesters, and a coastline with churning waves. A million colors sparkled on the tiled floor.3
Fiona loved this door and paused to admire it.
“We’d better go,” Eliot whispered. “There’s something weird about this Paxington map deal.”
“I know,” Fiona said. “I feel it, too.”
She glanced back up the stairwell, hoping to see Audrey looking down, maybe with the tiniest farewell wave.
But her mother wasn’t there . . . only shadows.
3. The Door of Four Paths and the Post residence were some of the few structures to miraculously survive the devastation that flattened the San Francisco peninsula in the War of Last Judgment. The four windows depict (or some claim are) doorways to the Middle Realms. This artifact from the Fifth Celestial Age continues to undergo intense and cautious study. For humanity, these windows remain symbols of mystery, wonder, and hope. Gods of the First and Twenty-first Century, Volume 11, The Post Family Mythology. Zypheron Press Ltd., Eighth Edition.
2
CIRCLES OF POWER AND REGRET
Audrey watched from the second-story window as the children walked down the street. They paused at the intersection and looked both ways before crossing. She reached up and touched the glass.
Always so careful. Good for them. The world was a dangerous place, and it was wise to look before one leaped. But sometimes being cautious was bad. Wait too long to cross the road, and one might be hit from behind by a bus careening out of control down the sidewalk.
She withdrew her hand, returned to the dining table, and sat.
“We must talk,” Cecilia whispered to her. “The children—”
Audrey held up one finger. “Tea first, Cecilia. And bring the Towers game. I fear the time will crawl today without some distraction.”
Cecilia obediently nodded and backed into the kitchen.
Boiling water for tea. The old woman hopefully could manage that.
Audrey nibbled on a piece of curled burnt bacon and reminded herself to make a list of all the restaurants nearby that delivered breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There was no need anymore to pretend they did not have the money for such “luxuries” as edible food.
Cecilia returned with a tea service tray and a rolled-up piece of leather.
Indeed, there was no need anymore