The Tea Machine (29 page)

“See,” Millicent turned to Sangfroid and Gallo. “I told you so. She’s set herself up as this Looselea person and caused all this commotion, nevermind what her cult gets up to millennium down the line.”

“We always believed you,” Sangfroid said. “It was Hubert who was sceptical.”

“Unbeliever,” Gallo muttered.

“No, we’re not gods.” Millicent turned back to Jana. “Nor giants, or anything mythological. We simply want to meet with…with this lady you’re talking about and bring her back home where she belongs.” Millicent watched Jana’s face carefully. Some people didn’t like it when you tried to topple their belief system. Jana’s face lit up. Then again, some people were natural insurgents. If you were lucky, they were on your side.

“She sends the men away to fetch her infernal tea all the way from Chin,” Jana said, and as if a floodgate opened, all Jana’s worries and resentment poured out. “All our animals are leased.” She cast a hand around the farmyard. “That’s why we can’t just eat them. They have been given to her by people outside of this valley, and now she has so many she leases them to the farmers so we can sell the milk and cheese. But there are so many goats in this valley the dairy market is saturated and therefore worthless.”

“That’s not very sensible,” Millicent agreed. It sounded just like Sophia and her impractical mind-set. The woman could well be heaven sent, for her feet were seldom on the ground.

“Some have made a fortune off her temple,” Jana said. “But the poorer people see nothing of it. If anything, her worship leaves us worse off. There are many in this valley who would like to see her return to wherever she came from.”

“She Who Must Be Returned,” Millicent murmured. But how? Sophia sounded very ingrained.

“Is the temple that tall building you can see from the hillside?” Sangfroid asked.

Jana nodded. “Is that where you are going. You’ll find her there, but her followers will be with her.”

Sangfroid shrugged. “We’re old friends. She’ll be glad to see us.” She stood indicating the end of their meal. “Can you show us the right track to get there?”

“Can I be your scout?” Magnus leaped to his feet “Please,” he whined.

“You can take them to the temple track but no farther,” Jana said sternly. “They can find the way easily from there.”

“You’ll set us safely on our way.” Gallo mollified him. “Like a good guide.”

“Thank you for the food,” Jana said shyly, and clasped Millicent’s shoulders in a farewell gesture. “I wish you well.”

“Thank you, Jana,” Millicent answered, and again inwardly marvelled that this woman, or the essence of her, had passed through the ages of this strange timeline. Time travel was such a curious thing. On an emotional level she felt she was travelling in ever decreasing circles rather than stretching out across the universe. It saddened her that this Jana’s progeny would become enslaved to the tea temple religion she abhorred so much. At least this Jana was a freewoman, poor as she was.

With Magnus as their guide, they quickly found the main valley road. It was wide and heavily rutted. A lot of traffic obviously moved along it though it was quiet at this time of day.

“You have to leave us here,” Sangfroid told Magnus. “But we might come back this way later. If we do, maybe we’ll see you then.”

“Here, boy.” Gallo dug in her pocket and pulled out a small jackknife. At least it was small in her hand. In Magnus’s hands it looked weighty and jokily over-sized. The boy’s eyes shone. “And remember, a good soldier is always shrewd when it comes to picking his companions, as well as his fights.” Gallo tapped him on the forehead. “It’s big brains that wins battles, not big balls.”

Never lifting his gaze from his prize, Magnus traced the pattern on the hilt with a grubby finger.

Millicent watched as he traced the Þ symbol. She frowned, she had seen this before somewhere.

“T…thank you, sir,” Magnus mumbled in awe.

“Away with you, whelp.” Gallo gently pushed him in a homeward direction.

“Where did you get that knife, Gallo? What does the engraving mean?” she asked.

Galo shrugged. “It’s from the Parabellum. You get ’em free, like a drinks promotion thingy.”

Millicent had no idea what a drinks promotion thingy was, but she was certain she had come across that symbol before on their travels.

“Was that wise?” Millicent asked, as they watched Magnus disappear among the olive trees. “A knife like that is hardly common place in this age.”

Gallo shrugged. “Once we get Sophia out of here, this world soon won’t exist, so why not cheer the little beggar up. Everything here will collapse without its godhead and take the future with it.” She turned and trudged onward, shoulder to shoulder with Sangfroid, unflinchingly towards their own extinction.

Millicent followed, biting her lip at the cruel inevitability of it all. Every step they took doomed this timeline’s future and condemned Sangfroid and Gallo along with it. How would it end? Would they simply disappear, blown away like smoke while she was whisked back to Hubert’s laboratory? She fretted these past few days would be wiped from her memory, or survive dreamlike and unformed on the edge of her consciousness. She could imagine the void all too readily. Her life spread out before her, empty and sterile, and inconsolably dull. The thought was unsettling. She did not want to lose any of this. She watched Sangfroid’s strong back—the stretch of her uniform across her shoulders, her dark-blonde hair curling at her collar—and finally admitted she did not want to lose her.

Ahead, she could make out the straw thatch of houses. Many houses. Up close, what had seemed like a small, rustic village, turned out to be a larger municipality. Hopefully, Sophia would be in residence, and they could find her quickly and take her home…and it would all be over.

How could it end like this? Millicent’s mind was buzzing. Millicent2 had warned her that her actions could change everything for good or bad, and here she was, approaching the crossroads, the optimal point in time, and she was still clueless as to what to do. Gallo and Sangfroid accepted that returning Sophia to her own time would destroy her religion and with it their culture and probable existence. What alternative had Millicent? Allow Sophia to remain here? Let this timeline unfold as it may? Hubert and Weena had both warned against it. This timeline was the anomaly, and she was standing at the root of it. But if she could redirect all their future lives, how could she do it? And would it be for the better?

CHAPTER 30

The geese greeted them first.
Guard geese. Loud, raucous, and flocking towards them at great speed.

“Hold up,” Sangfroid ordered.

Gallo stiffened. “I don’t like geese,” she said. “Sneaky fuckers. They dodge when you kick ’em.”

Behind the geese came the old shepherd they had seen on the slopes.

“Told ya I wasn’t drunk. See.” He pointed them out to several other old men who followed him as far as the town gates. These men were marginally better dressed and Sangfroid hoped they were the town dignitaries. They could grab Sophia quicker if the town nobs took them straight to her. She smiled and tipped them a friendly nod. They responded by shuffling into an uneasy huddle and gawping even harder at the monstrosities that had popped up on their doorstep.

“Real live giants,” the shepherd continued proudly, as if he were presenting a freak show. “And a littl’un.” He squinted at Millicent. “Probably their body slave.”

The town guard arrived carrying spears and cudgels and hovered in the background looking very unhappy at seeing real live giants with their body slave on the doorstep. The two groups stood facing each other outside the rickety town gates.

“We come in peace.” Sangfroid opened with the greatest lie in the universe. She checked out the guards’ weaponry with a casual, practiced eye and wasn’t worried. There was nothing there she and Gallo couldn’t snap with their bare hands, including the guards’ necks.

“Welcome,” an elder called back from a safe distance. “I am Volos, magistrate elect of the great city of Sophopolis. Tell me, where are you from?”

“They’re from the next valley,” the old shepherd butted in, excitedly. “I saw them come over the mountain. They’ve come to steal our goddess!”

“Quiet, you old fool,” Volos scolded. “How can they be after our goddess? Where are their goats, ’eh? They can’t lure her away without offerings.”

“Maybe they don’t need goats,” one of the elders spoke up. “They have a slave girl. Maybe a serving wench is their offering.” As one, the old men settled their cataract-clouded gazes on Millicent and examined her like a fatted calf.

“So what? Slave girls have been offered before.” Volos shook off the comment. “She Who Is Never Impressed wasn’t that bothered.”

“She’s very scruffy for an offering.” Another elder pointed out. “Very substandard.”

The debate continued. “But she’s not a local girl. This one has been chosen especially to please. Look at her colouring.” Yet another pointed out. “It’s the same as Looselea’s. Pasty Celt complexion with squirrel red hair.”

“Excuse me, but I happen to be auburn,” Millicent said. “And my skin tone has been remarked upon as pale but interesting.”

The old men glared, and Sangfroid placed herself deliberately in between Millicent and them. “This is
my
slave girl,” she said in a severe tone. “She is not a gift.”

“Are you selling her then?” Volos asked. “Looselea might like her.”

Behind her she could make out Millicent’s snort of exasperation.

“Maybe.” Sangfroid scowled menacingly to show it was unlikely this lot could afford her prized possession.

“Must I be socially embarrassed every time I visit your accursed timeline?” Millicent muttered.

“We have come to pay tribute to Looselea,” Gallo said.

“Where are your goats then?” The old shepherd asked, not as easily cowed as his municipal representatives.

“I don’t need goats. Tell her the giants of the Urals have come to see her,” Gallo boomed in her best angry giant voice. “And be quick about it.”

Volos looked uncertain but nodded for one of the guards to deliver the message.

“You know of our goddess?” he asked uncertainly.

“We are great friends, and she will be glad to see us,” Sangfroid confirmed.

This threw the elders into an even tighter huddle. Intrigued as they were, they also seemed very nervous. Where there many attempts to steal their goddess? Why would anyone want to make off with Sophia? The notion amused Sangfroid, she’d have just as happily left her here, but Gallo seemed smitten, and Hubert was adamant she be returned to her rightful place before the universe disappeared up its own black hole.

“So…” Volos struggled to fill the silence. “You’re from the Urals? Where’s that then?”

“Land of giants and mighty amphitheatres.” Sangfroid was dismissive. “Miles from here. Looselea knows of it.”

The guard reappeared and murmured in Volos’s ear. Volos stood aside and with a low bow and sweep of his arm showed them the open gateway. “Please, mighty giants of the Urals, and attendant, welcome to Sophopolis. The goddess awaits.”

“Have you brought my luggage?” Sophia greeted them. Then she saw Gallo and blushed. She patted at the folds of her toga with nervous hands.

“No dear. We’ve come to collect you, not deliver luggage,” Millicent said, looking around her with interest. Sophia’s villa was the largest building in the town and centrally located at the head of the one and only plaza. The sunlight diffused through latticed window shutters, and in the late afternoon, the walls were bathed with a pearly incandescence. The effect was cool and welcoming after the dust and heat outside. There were a few reclining benches scattered across the expanse of stone floor, and a small fountain tinkled tranquilly in the corner. The room was minimal, quiet, and stylishly eloquent. Millicent could not equate it with Sophia in any way. Had her ordeal changed her for the better?

“This is a very lovely place, Sophia. Are you staying here?” she asked.

“The locals built it for me. They are very darling, but I miss my knick-knacks,” Sophia said. “The place needs a bit of clutter. I don’t suppose you brought any Wedgewood with you? They try so hard, but the tea sets they turn out are just not up to specification, no matter how much I explain, and the Chin imports never arrive in one piece.” A familiar whine entered her voice, which Millicent found most comforting. This was indeed the Sophia she knew.

“We have come to take you home, Sophia, to your own Wedgewood and knick-knacks,” Millicent said as her trepidation grew. Sophia was not focusing her thoughts and sensibilities as expected. She had supposed Sophia would be eager to return home. This was becoming more of a home visit than a rescue.

“Oh, I can’t leave now,” Sophia exclaimed, confirming Millicent’s growing doubts. “It is the eve of my festival. My inaugural. I’m a goddess you know. These people love me. Your timing is very auspicious. In fact, I may have a role in it for some of you.” She laid her hand on Gallo’s arm and bestowed an awkwardly flirtatious smile on her hero. “But first let me offer you some goat canapés. It’s the region’s specialty.”

“Thanks, but we’ve already eaten. Look, we need to go, Sophia.” Sangfroid was her usual blunt, bossy self. “There’s a time-flux window thingy opening up and we need to be ready for it.”

“You want me to go through a window? Whatever for?” Sophia was not impressed. “I refuse to leave just yet. The festival will run for the next three days, and I must be here. I am, after all, the guest of honour.”

Millicent could see exactly what was going on. Sophia had finally found a situation that matched her ambition. Here, she was the brightest and the best, because she could declare it so. At last she’d found a place she could rule with her iron will, her beady eye, and her own brand of peculiar logic. It would be like winkling a crab from under a rock to get her away from here.

“We haven’t got three days.” Sangfroid was getting tetchy, and Millicent knew this could only end in stalemate…or dungeons. If Sophia had any. Sophia would be obstinate just to prove her authority, and Sangfroid had the ambassadorial finesse of a caribou. Between the two of them, nobody would be going anywhere.

The guards stationed outside the villa door peeped in, made nervous by the raised voices. Millicent now realised that Sophia meant something to these people. She was a godhead, and they may not want to let her go. It was a delicate situation. Too delicate for Sangfroid to stomp all over with her muddy old military boots.

“You simply have to give us a tour, Sophia,” she said, ignoring Sangfroid’s stupefied look. “The town looks intriguing. And I must hear all about this festival. It’s in your honour, you say?”

Sophia immediately took her arm and spun them both around to face another door on the far side of the room.

“Yes. I am to be officially deified, though I have been as good as a saint to these people already. The preparations are all through here,” she said, her voice full of excitement at the possibility of showing off. “But first you must come and see my factory.”

“Factory?” Millicent was incredulous. “You have a factory?” What had Sophia been up to?

“Yes. I’ve always wanted one. They’re all the thing.”

“Whatever do you need a factory for?” Millicent asked. Behind her Sangfroid seethed. She could feel her itching to grab Sophia and stomp back to the mountains with her over her shoulder like some Neanderthal. They had only a few hours before Hubert began to call them back, and judging by the amount of guards dotted around the place, it would be a hard task to simply whisk the local deity away. This mission needed a high level of skill and subterfuge. She slid a sideways glance at Gallo and Sangfroid and realized she was on her own.

“Why, I need a factory to make tea,” Sophia said. “You have no idea how hard it was to get a decent cup of tea here when I first arrived. It was almost impossible.”

“Tea? You make tea?” Sangfroid asked.

“Yes. We refine it. We import the raw leaves from China. I pointed my men in the general direction, and they eventually found it. I have successfully opened a trade route, though it is a tediously long one.” She led them outside towards another building. It was square and squat, built in rough stone and much more rustic than the villa. Millicent would have assumed it was an olive press except that Sophia had already pre-warned her of its use.

Another guard—they really were everywhere—flung open the doors for them to enter. They were immediately assaulted by a tsunami of steam and noise.

“Open the vents!” Sophia waved her hand before her face to dispel the fug. “Good gracious, must I tell you everything. Where’s Heron?” she demanded from a worker who appeared out of the swirling miasma.

“He’s with Volos, tending to the ceremonial fountain, my divineness.”

“Volos is my festival coordinator,” Sophia explained. There was a lot of yelling and loud banging, but eventually the overhead brass vents opened, allowing sunlight to blaze through the board slats and the steam to dispel. The factory floor was revealed as a long, low room lined with huge iron drums which rotated and roared like masticating brontosauri.

“These are the rollers.” Sophia gestured to them with pride. “Luckily the leaves are withered enough by the time they arrive. We spread them out on special mats on the ship decks and let the sun and wind dry them out en route.”

“You’re making tea? Actual loose leaf tea?” Millicent was surprised. “I thought you imported it as a consumable?”

“We do, but in its raw state. Here we roll it, and oxidize it. Let me show you the macerator machines.” She led them deeper into the building. “I am very lucky in that Volos’s grandson, Heron, is a very capable boy and can follow my instructions to the letter. He’s so intelligent.”

“Sophia,” Millicent mulled over her next question carefully, “when you say you are treated like a goddess here, do they call you by another name? Perhaps Looselea?”

“Why yes. After the loose leaf tea I have created a market for.”

“You actually prepare the tea here?” Gallo asked. “It must be a massive operation.”

“So far we have produced nearly ten tons. We distribute sacks of it to the various temples that seem to be popping up all over the region. Volos sees to that.” Sophia whisked them along on her tour. “It’s a very profitable export industry. We sell the teapots as well as the tea.”

I’ll bet it is
. Millicent remembered the bitterness in Jana’s words back at the impoverished farm. Sophia and her sidekicks were commercially exploiting the people under the context of worship.

“And here is the venue for my first ever festival. Though I hope there will be many more. It would be wonderful if this could become an annual event.” Sophia brought them out into the main plaza again. “I have instructed the local women how to makes scones, and of course, there will be tea enough for everyone.”

Several men were working around the central fountain. Millicent noticed Volos, and when he spied them, he approached with a young man at this side.

“Ah, I believe you have met Volos already,” Sophia said. “But let me introduce Heron, one of my most favourite of the young Latvians.” Millicent caught the word and realised Sophia, for all her meddling, had no real clue as to where she was geographically, much less time wise.

Both men bowed low as they approached. “Oh wonderful lady of the tea leaf, we have completed the fountain for tonight’s opening ceremony,” Volos said.

“Oh how clever. I knew you would.” Sophia clapped her hands in delight. “You have arrived just in time,” she told Millicent. “In a few hours, we begin my festival when the waters of the town will run with tea, and this fountain will be at the heart of it. Heron is such a clever young man.” Heron glowed at her praise and bowed again, even lower. “He has a bright, bright future,” Sophia added.