Over The Sea (8 page)

“What?”

She jerked her chin up. “It is so. You are connected to my family some way in the past. Ancient families, like you said. Back and back and back, through the world gate and back again. That's how I first found you.” A brief smile.

My brain was full of darting thoughts, like bees in a hive that has just been turned upside down. “Will my parents back on Earth end up going to jail when I disappear? Or do I leave them a note?”

Clair shook her head. “No. You see, someone will take your place there, someone from the possible worlds like yours, except in her version of your world there was — will be, very soon — a quaking of the earth, and her house will fall down, and she didn't live. Now she'll get a chance at a life, if I make this spell, for the time is nigh.”

I gulped, trying to understand. But I couldn't think past the joy that, even then, I couldn't quite dare let myself believe in.

“You might even share one another's dreams, like you once dreamed of me here. I told you I don't understand it, but I do know this: once we shift you both through the world and make the changes, they are forever. Because she will be dead to her world, but alive in yours, asleep in your bed that is just like hers. It also means if you come here, you cannot go back to your world as your old self, as there cannot be two of you, and in her own world you both would be dead.”

“It's not a choice,” I declared, my heart beating fast, my nerves singing. I struggled to find words that began to express how I felt. “It's freedom ... this is
home
. I'd come even if I had to be an old woman with no teeth. Even if I had to be a pig, or a ... a squid!”

Clair laughed her kitten laugh. “But where would a squid stay?” She looked around as though trying to find squid furniture — it was her kind of joke.

Laughter fizzed right up from my toes. “I don't know, but at least it would be
here!
“ I stood up straight. “So what do I do? Make it fast, so bad luck won't take it away again!”

She mouthed the words
bad luck
, then shook her head. “Stand there.”

I did. She began to talk, in that strange almost-under-water sort of voice that mages use when drawing powerful magic. Air, even time, and the whatever-it-is that separates one world from another — something outside of space and time — all of it distorted, or thinned, or changed. And with it I changed, for the transfer malaise was nothing compared to the disorientation that I endured now. But before it could become unbearable, I blinked, and my sight was both clearer and came from a different angle.

I looked up at Clair. She laid the book down. Her fingers trembled as she pressed them against her eyes, but then she dropped her hands and opened her eyes to look at me. “Amazing,” she murmured — in Mearsiean, which I now understood as if I'd grown up to it, though I understand from the others that there are times when traces of my American accent shape my words. “You do look kind of like the portrait of Mearsieanne. That's my great-grandmother that I mentioned. Coloring. But ... but you're still yourself.”

That book vanished a second or two after she laid it down.

Clair hadn't noticed. “Come on!”

We ran out, and into another room, one that had a mirror.

I looked into it. Next to Clair stood a girl with blue eyes, thin dark brows, and long, straight blue-black hair, my skin the light brown of a summer tan, like the rest of the girls, except for Diana, who was the color of milk chocolate, or Clair, who was milky pale because of her morvende ancestry — centuries in caves.

I was still slight in build, but I wasn't tall and weedy any more — I was short.

I looked back at my face. Open-mouthed amazement stared back at me. Features just normal features, a face that was never going to be inscrutable, for every single thought that flitted through my mind seemed reflected in that face — just as before.

My gaze traveled down, over my old Earth summer clothes, which were now too large.

“When I first came to you it was my birthday, the 28th of Firstmonth,” she said. “Today is the 30th of Fourthmonth. Shall we make this your birthday?”

“As long as I never have to get older,” I said, and looked away from myself at last, and around what I was just beginning to realize was my new home.

“I did it,” she said. “In the spell. That one can be reversed,” she added. “If you ever wish.”

“Ugh! No chance! What joy, that I can be a kid every year forever!” I said, and jumped up and down.

“Not forever,” Clair said, earnest, her gaze steady, the gaze of someone who's already seen one childhood friend die. “No human is forever, but you can be a kid for the rest of your life.”

“Suits me.” I hopped around in a circle, too happy to stand still.

“Something else,” Clair said. “While we're making changes, let me make them all now, and then we can tell the others.” Again she looked serious. “I want you to be the princess. See, you are so good at plans, even when you were trying to squash it, I could see that you are a leader like I've never been. If you are a princess, then you share whatever authority I have, and both of us can help each other where we're weak as well as strong. Two of us working in our own ways — maybe that's the way to keep Mearsies Heili free.”

“A princess, and I don't have to grow up and get married?” I exclaimed.

She grinned. “You will be a leader with the girls. I think they need that, and I'm not as good at it as I ought to be. Seshe is a leader, too, but when I asked her, she refused to be a princess. It was she who said that you'd be better, something I'd been thinking without having said it. You get along with the girls real well. Not all the rest do that.”

I gulped. I'd never been popular — but then I'd never been
here
.

Clair gave a short little nod. “Once I know I'm right, I can make decisions, but with — people — I don't always know, and I dither, and it gets to be too late.” She let out a sigh. “Maybe it's too early — maybe I should wait, but I feel like I want it all settled right now. Or, what do you think?”

Was I still dazed by the magic? I don't know, but happiness made me feel like a balloon inside, lighter than air.

“Yes,” I said, still hopping up and down. “Yes!”

“Then this is now yours. It was mine. Keep it for whenever you must use a symbol.” She took from the table a silver circlet, shaped for a girl's head.

I took it with both hands. Later I would try it on, but for now I just carried it, feeling peculiar indeed.

Clair drew a breath, and smiled at last. “I don't know why, but the world now feels right. I think what we have done is the right thing for us all. But last, you need a name. And I think I have the one. Unless you want to pick?”

“What's your idea?” I asked.

“Cherene Jennet,” she said. “It's how I've been thinking of you these past couple of years.”

It was my favorite name, but given their pronunciation: “Cher-enneh ... . Jennet.” I repeated it, and the name seemed to echo inside, as if a last piece of an inner puzzle had gone missing, and now locked into place. “It's perfect,” I said, and meant it.

“Cherene Jennet Sherwood,” Clair pronounced. “Come on, let's tell the girls. They are down in the Junkyard.”

Waiting. They were all there sitting in a circle, their faces expectant.

I blinked away the transfer reaction and looked round at those faces as they looked at me. Irene with her lip between her teeth; Seshe smiling the broadest, sweetest smile I'd ever seen; Sherry grinning happily, Faline's eyes and mouth round. Diana nodding, Dhana's thin brows lifted in interest.

“Cherene Jennet is here to stay,” Clair said. “And she is now my right hand.”

“Left hand,” I said automatically. Then wished I hadn't spoken. And
then
I laughed, because I didn't have to be afraid any more. “Left hand splat.”

“Splat!” Faline jumped up, dancing around. Then they erupted into whoops, everyone talking at once. Faline yodeling “Splat! Splunk! Spleedle!”

I got that warm sense inside that you get when someone actually cares about what you might think. Faline stopped dancing and whispered to Sherry behind her hand, but my hearing was now as acute as my vision, and I heard
How do you spell her name?

Sherry whispered back — using the letter for
sh
, which sounds like ‘she' but I will call C. Faline's eyes squinched tight in merriment.

“Eight of us now,” Seshe said. “A good number.”

“Patrols of four and four,” Diana put in. And to Clair, “Did you tell her about the Shadow?”

“Only mention,” Clair said. “We'll go see it soon. First, things here.”

Faline was now shaking all over, her mirth obviously impossible to contain. Just looking at her set Sherry off.

“We must celebrate,” Irene said, clapping her hands.

“Janil is making us a dinner,” Clair said. “We can go back up whenever you're all hungry.”

Irene turned on Faline. “What are you laughing about?”

Faline pointed a freckled finger at me. “Ch-cherene J-jenet ... CJ! Don't you see it?
They
have PJ, and
we
have CJ!”

When I opened my eyes the next morning, the light was unfamiliar. It was too pure, too blue, and it smelled pure.

Then I remembered where I was. My jumbled dreams were fading fast, but one image lingered: standing in my Earth backyard staring up at the dim stars.

I was
here
. There would be no belt, no smog, no kids making fun of me for loving stories about magic, no teachers using punishment and peer pressure to make me think and act like everyone else. No more short hair because it was practical, no more ugly clothes. In short, no more terror that just being myself was going to get me hurt.

I got out of bed —
my
bed, in the room I'd picked in Clair's white palace — and ran to the window. I'd picked this room because it looked down southwest over the woodland, beyond the edge of the cloud.

At dinner I'd found out that the Chwahir had been spying about of late. Those Yxubarec had been seen south of Seram Aru, and of course the problems with the Auknuge were ongoing. There was indeed danger, but it wasn't danger from ‘home' — for the first time, I felt safe at home, and the dangers were all outside.

I looked out on a sky thick with gray cloud. The time was spring. Rain sheeted down, spattering on the terrace below, making the flowers dance. I flung open my windows and took a deep breath. The air smelled wonderfully of wet loam and grass.

What joy! My first day
living
here — and being a princess!

Well, in this thing I have to tell the truth. So I felt a little ambivalent about the princess part. When I was with Clair the whole idea was great! I couldn't stop grinning. But what about the others? What did they
really
think? I felt a little silly, and a little anxious — pretentious. I certainly didn't feel like a ‘real' princess. What if they thought I was a show-off, or worse, a fake?

What did being a princess
mean
, anyway? I looked out the window and thought about that. The stories about pretty gowns and everyone curtseying were mostly about beautiful princesses who went to balls to get some slob of a handsome prince to fall in love with them. Blech. Right hand or left hand, princessing was a job — Clair had made that clear. I could have the dresses if I wanted. Maybe I could demand that everyone curtsey and bow, but the second I thought that, I remembered ol' PJ whining at one of his friends for forgetting — and the faces those ‘friends' made behind his back.

I resolved two things: I wasn't going to have anyone call me any titles that they didn't want to, and no bowing unless it was what people did anyway. I wanted to do a good job for Clair's sake, and not act like PJ — with his friends all bowing to his face, and rolling their eyes behind his back.

Well, time to get going on my first day.

I looked at the room. There was the bed, much like beds on Earth, only it wasn't on legs. It had storage drawers under it, the whole made of wood, with tiny flowers painted round the edges. Across from it was a wardrobe, in a style I was to find more or less the same over the world: it was deep enough to walk into, for it had a cleaning frame.

Just before we'd separated for sleep, Clair had taken me up to a storage room high in the palace somewhere, and told me to help myself to the contents, until I could order clothes of the kinds I wanted.

I'd found a chest of cotton blouses and shirts. I kept my button-shirt, for I didn't trust any tops that laced up the front, which were more common in these parts. What if the laces came undone? Not that I had the slightest vestige of figure. But still, in some things a person likes to stick with what she's used to, at least until she gets used to new ways.