Rosto's POV
On the third day of his 'vacation', there was some excitement in the Rogue court. A thick-set smith came barging into the Dancing Dove, raving. His jaw was heavily bruised, but he yelled well enough.
"The Shadow Snake stole my woman!"
Rosto bit back a laugh. The man was insane. The other patrons also seemed to stifle their amusement. The crack-nob went on, "Dark ally it was, me an' my woman an' babe, headn' for home…then IT appears. Black as coal, eyes burnin' like blue DEMON fire," He shivered, "it attacked my girls. I did wha' I could, but the cursed thing…" He favored the wound on his face. "I woke up later an' they was gone. Stolen! The Shadow Snake took my lass! I seek protection from the Rogue." He prostrated himself before George.
Rosto leaned back in his chair, waiting. It would be interesting to see how George handled the situation. The Rogue called up one of his gixies, a pretty mot called Rispah. She had red hair, and Rosto wondered if George had a soft spot for Copper-nobs.
"Have you seen Edith recently?" He asked softly. Rispah shook her head, no. George raised an eyebrow. People glanced around uneasily; times were strange enough without the Shadow Snake thrown into the mix.
"What proof do you offer that it was indeed the Shadow snake?" George asked loudly.
The smith pulled out a filthy, ripped shirt. "Its touch scorched my shirt; see the black marks it left? Ask any in the Unicorn district, they'll tell you the thing left black footprints in its wake!" His eyes were wild, bloodshot.
Rosto stroked his chin thoughtfully. Last night, Cooper had a good amount of soot on her; and she was even quieter than usual. He'd passed it off as one of her moods, but now…
'Puppy.' He thought wryly. 'What have you got your paws in now?'
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Beka's POV
I was restless by the third day. After a year of Ahuda's training and so many patrols with my Dogs, I wasn't used to having endless free time. I took my baton and several of George's extra knives as I headed out to the Lower City.
I visited Hasfush again, as well as the other spinners. Shiaa had caught a conversation about overthrowing George. I listened; there was more information on the mumper I'd caught. The boss Rat spoke with sharp, clipped words; I couldn't place the accent. He talked of hiring another assassin, but that was all Shiaa had taken.
When I stepped away from the spinner, I found Blasé standing in front of me. "You're an odd one Cooper." He has a nice, soft voice.
I blushed, not knowing what to say. I was covered in the usual grit, and I vainly tried to brush it away. Soot-puppy indeed!
"How about I show you the city? You mentioned you were new in town, after-all." He was a smooth Rusher.
I smiled like a looby and nodded. He led me to Upmarket, to Patten, all the way to Northgate and back. I was relieved to find the Jane Street Kennel was still in place, but it had undergone some changes—mostly for the better.
We chatted; it was almost as nice as morning breakfast back home. I bit my lip, saddened by the memory. It had been a hundred years. It struck me that I was at least a century older than Blasé. Irrationally, I wondered if he liked older mots.
Blasé had stopped talking, and he seemed to be waiting for an answer. I blinked. "What was that?" I asked, like a bugnob.
"You're a lass, aren't you?"
"Oh." I looked down at my shirt. My peaches were hidden; something else must have given me away. How did Alanna hide her gender everyday? "Yes, I'm a mot."
"Ammot?" He repeated. "Is that your name?"
I frowned. "No. I am a mot, a gixie, the opposite of a cove." He still looked confused. I sighed. "Mot means 'lass' where I come from."
His face dawned with comprehension. I was vaguely disappointed. For all his looks and charm, he was a bit slow. Mayhap that was why George trusted him. Blasé didn't have the nob for plots and intrigue. He'd never rise in the Court of the Rogue.
"But if you tell anyone 'bout me, I'll have your tripes for garters." I added threateningly (I don't think he knew what tripes were, but he promised to keep it a secret all the same).
A doxie from the court found us and dragged Blasé back to the Court. He was late for some business.
As I continued on my walk, I resisted the urge to do a Dog's work. There were unchecked filchers loitering about; mostly pickpockets. I broke the fingers of one who tried to lift my belt purse. The ducknob ran from me, cursing and crying.
I bought a raston for lunch; it wasn't near as good as Nolls, but also wasn't tainted by the hand of the shadow snake.
The marketplace was bright and cool; I sat and watched the people of the Lower City. In a hundred years, they haven't changed much. Mayhap the mots are a little more…motley; but the children run and play the same games of tag-the-leader, hand-clap-slap and all the others I remember. There are even a few new games. I saw one group of little ones kicking an old sheep bladder about.
The raston was gone in a matter of minutes; I dusted off my fingers and stood. Somwhat new was coming towards me.
It was an odd-looking Yamani man pushing a cart down the street. He wore a wide brimmed hat, and others brushed by him as though he wasn't even there. I seemed to be the only person to notice him. He plodded slowly but steadily in my direction.
The elderly cove paused and looked up, revealing glims that sparkled with the knowledge of centuries. The eyes were too green to be human. As I stared, I realized it was Songwind. The master dragon had assumed human form. He stretched out a wizened old tickler, beckoning me to come closer. I swallowed my heart and hoped it returned to its proper place.
"Master Dragon." I bowed.
He chuckled; it was a soft, musical sound. Distantly, I noted that this laugh was much more pleasant than his roar. "Beka Cooper, we must talk. The Cat found me; he explained what has happened. I am afraid it is my fault." His voice seemed to drift away. "I haven't made a mistake in over a thousand years; I suppose it was about time." He smiled dryly.
"Your spell took a little longer than you probably planned." I offered politely. Things had worked out well enough; I suppose I wasn't too angry with him.
"The spell took exactly as much as I planned to take." He said harshly. "I meant that there were some interesting complications to the spell. Have you noticed anything odd about this time? Perhaps the fact that you have descendants when you've yet to have a child?"
My nob near exploded. I hadn't even thought of that! I'd just gone along with the story, accepting that I'd lived in two places at once. I stared at Songwind, lost.
"Yes. You certainly noticed, although the implications escaped you." He looked amused again. I scowled; he was making me out to be a fool. It didn't help that I felt like one.
"And how do you explain that, Master Songwind? What did your spell do, exactly?"
"I very much doubt you'll understand what I'm about to tell you." He paused. "How do I explain the universes to such a simple creature?" He seemed to be musing aloud. I crossed my arms and tapped my foot. My baton seemed much less pathetic when he was in this form.
He tugged his long white goatee. "The gods have a certain way of doing things. They like order, linear progression. The fates have set the world in such a way that certain events MUST happen. Every now and again, a bugnob mortal will enter the equation and throw off the intricate balances created by immortals. Your Rosto is such a one." He smiled at a private thought. I waited.
"I came up with this theory several eons ago, but my kin are still reluctant to accept it. I believe that there is this universe, and then there are others. No—let me finish." He'd known I was about to interrupt him. "You know the three realms, the Divine, the Peaceful, and this one. I do not speak of realms, I speak of universes. Alternate dimensions, different layers in the fabric of space." He picked a bamboo stick off his cart and drew three lines in the dust.
"See these lines? Think of them as different worlds, three different versions of the mortal realm. Each is real, each is separate. You belong, perhaps, to the middle one." He tapped the second line.
"Now, instead of three lines, imagine there are several thousand. There is actually an infinite amount, but I'm trying to keep this simple, accessible. You see?"
I saw three lines in the dirt, and little more. He continued anyway. "While you, Beka, belong here, there are two other Bekas here, and here." He pointed to the two other lines. "You will never meet the others, for you do not belong in the same space. When the universes touch, two Bekas become one. You see, the dimensions are not straight lines in sand. They are bubbles. They touch, they bounce, collide, and they probably skip too. I have never observed them firsthand."
He waited for me to laugh at his joke, but I was having enough trouble understanding the rest of his words.
"Now, when one Beka went to the Divine realms; one of you traveled, another did not. Do you remember the misalignments in your body? I attributed them to the wrong error. You weren't reformed, you were split. You managed to create a new offshoot of this dimension, and a double, a likeness of you, came to me."
I must have blanched. He reassured me, "Now, not to worry; when I took the time to re-assemble you, I fixed any physical problems you may have had with the split. The copy is now better than the original, if I may say so. But now, in this universe, there has already been a Beka, one who has already lived and died. The problem is that there is a second Beka, you."
"How do I go home?" I asked softly. I refused to think about his theories. There was already enough madness in my life. "Can you take me back in time; to before I split?"
"Time?" His voice thundered in my nob, but in my ear, it was nothing louder than a whisper. I seemed to have hit a sore point with the master mage. "Time is nothing more than a means to separate the stages of change. It is a mind concept, something that only exists to those with the capacity to conceive it. It is an expression of space, a unit of measure for that which can never be quantified. Listen to me Beka Cooper, time is nothing!"
I stepped back, tripped and fell on my arse. I sat there, bewildered. I am a simple puppy; the inner workings of the universe do not interest me. Songwind calmed himself, taking a deep breath. I scooted back farther in case he decided to exhale flames. I remember the stories my mama used to tell me about dragons, none of them ended well for the mortals.
"I will reverse the spell. This offshoot of the universe will die when I do. I will return when I am ready." In a puff of purple smoke, the old cove disappeared, along with his cart and wares. I decided not to tell Rosto about this. I wasn't even sure that I could.
a/n: Forget most of Songwind's B.S. I apologize for all the science(y) words, but I needed a loophole to explain how Beka could have had descendants if she wasn't around to have them. I'm not planning to be a) a mathematician or b) a scientist when I grow up (guess that pretty much leave me with history and writing).
