Abby the Witch (24 page)

'Oh really?
Are you clairvoyant, Pembrake? Do you have second sight? Are you
a witch?'

He laughed
through an exasperated breath. 'I don't need second sight to know
what this guy's up to.'

Abby crossed
her arms firmly, something she was finding she did a lot around
Pembrake. 'Well forgive me if I don't trust your judgement.'

'Abby,' all
anger, in fact, was gone from his voice, 'please,' he said almost
desperately, 'just trust me on this one thing.'

If it weren't
for his genuine tone, she would have continued her charade. She, of
course, had no intention of meeting up with the Captain unless she
had to. Ms Crowthy hadn't raised a foolish witch. Through Abby
wasn't entirely sure what the Captain was up to, she could sense
that she shouldn't approve. Martha had said he'd very much liked
the Princess, and Abby was quite sure this whole charade had
something to do with that. Still, Pembrake did look genuinely
concerned, and just this once he deserved the truth. 'I have no
intention of going anywhere with the Captain of the Guard,
Pembrake; he is a total rogue.'

Pembrake stood
and laughed quietly. 'He was right about one thing, little
mouse.'

Abby made a
face. 'Please don't call me that, it's very disturbing.'

'It is, isn't
it?' he laughed again.

'Well what was
he right about then?' she was curious as to what, if anything,
Pembrake could find to agree on with the Captain of the Guard.

'You
are clever, Abby.'

A butler
dressed in fine clothes rushed up to Pembrake waving his hands, and
with an almost friendly smile, Pembrake left her alone behind her
pillar.

The sounds of
the other guests finally taking their seats subsided to be replaced
by the sharp trumpet of several horns.

In the ensuing
scene, which Abby had simply listened to while staring at her
pillar, she couldn't help but wonder something. If Pembrake had
been worried that when the Captain had thought she was 'clever'
that it really meant something else, then did Pembrake now think
she was that kind of 'clever' too? Though the thought was complex
and tiring, Abby couldn't stop it from whirling about in her
mind.

It was strange
to have a moment to himself, to reflect. Ever since he'd gotten
here he'd been pulled and pushed from situation to crisis without a
moment to breathe.

So he'd stowed
it, submerged his misgivings, fears, and trivial feelings.

But staring up
at the ceiling of his room was just the pause his thoughts
required. There was no stopping it now.

Was he on
drugs or something? Had he sustained a critical blow to the head?
Had the storm frazzled his reasoning, his foresight,
his control?

There had to
be something, some reason, some way to explain his behaviour.

Pembrake put a
hand up to his brow and swept away the sweat with a lazy
movement.

Even to the
casual observer, let alone a companion, Pembrake's behaviour would
appear irrational, over the top, and topsy-turvy. But did there
seem to be any reason why? Any occurrence or circumstance that he
could pin his change of behaviour on? Was he just going insane?

Was this what
happened when you went back in time? You devolved, you became a
child again? You wiped away all the years of control, of wisdom, of
experience? Leaving nothing but raw emotion, unbridled from reason
and self-control.

Everything was
strange – this was strange. Lying in bed in the Palace 28 years
from his own time, possessed by thoughts of insecurity and
indecision. A Commander, a good one, would not let trivial thoughts
like these consume them. Sleep was necessary to allow one to
effectively carry out their duty. And you can't sleep while you
were staring up at the ceiling obsessing over nothing at all.

There was a
chill breeze coming in from the open window. It was rustling the
corners of the curtains, lifting them up like the corners of
sleeves. He could close it, but then he'd have to get up – it was
just easier to lie here and think about it.

The reception,
the dinner, they were all starting to blur. For the first time in
his life he was finding the doting attention of someone like the
Princess annoying. It was getting in the way. At first he'd fallen
into the old pattern, found her attentions a welcome distraction.
But now they were an obstacle. There was no point to this. He just
had to get home. He and Abby had to get the hell out of here –
there was nothing else to it.

A sharper wind
caught the curtains and they shot up like puffs of smoke from a
signal fire.

But none of
this was central to the problem that ate at his mind. He'd been
aware of the thought forming ever since he'd known for sure that
they had travelled back to the past. Now it was more like a force,
propelling his thoughts towards one purpose, one question.

What if they
could change the future?

Why were they
sent to the past? He didn't buy that plecking crap about it being
an accident. History didn't work like that. No, they were in the
past for a reason, and that reason was to make the future
better.

They did not
owe the current future their allegiance. They should not try and
protect it, buffer it from whatever changes they made in the past.
The horrible Bridgestock of 28 years from now was not worth
preserving.

Pembrake
finally pushed himself out of bed and slammed the window closed,
the once-flapping curtain becoming caught under the pane.

All this
posturing about the past wasn't going to get anywhere. Only action
would make a difference. And there was only one action in
particular that would be decisive enough to count.

With that
thought in his mind, Pembrake went back to bed.

~~~

Avoiding the
Captain of the Guard did not prove to be that hard. All Abby had to
do was slip away from the reception early. It was not as if anyone
would miss her. She was only a very peculiar side attraction, after
all.

She went
straight back to the servant quarters to talk to Martha. Martha had
assured her, with barely disguised humour, that Abby wouldn't be
the first girl who'd wanted to avoid the Captain. He had a
reputation apparently, and it wasn't for being an upstanding,
dignified servant to the King.

Abby was
confident of her ability to haughtily ignore the Captain's
advances, but still, she had to agree with Pembrake's advice –
there didn't seem to be any point of tempting time. Even being in
the same room as a Guard was a bad idea. If she couldn't get out of
the palace until Pembrake was done gadding, then she would stay
well and truly out of everyone's way. Plus, she really needed some
quiet time to study the charm bracelet.

Martha had
agreed to let Abby swap rooms to a barely-used broom cupboard that
had a rollup mattress. It was out of the way, even though it did
smell horribly of damp. That, Abby could live with though; in a way
it reminded her of her musty attic back in the future.

The broom
cupboard had thin walls and although the entire servant wing was
separated from the Guard quarters, Abby's broom cupboard seemed to
eat into that demarcation. Martha had assured her it was the only
other room available, and that if she were quiet, there would be no
problem at all. No one would expect to look for her there.

Abby spent the
first several minutes trying to regulate her breathing to a
whisper, but eventually gave up as the general raucous noise coming
from beyond the wall was enough to damp down even the most
thunderous of snores.

With a witch's
natural keen hearing, Abby eventually found herself listening to
the conversations filtering through the wall, unable to concentrate
on the bracelet through the noise.

'You should
have seen his face!' a deep voice rumbled. 'I recon I punched it so
hard I left his nose on the pavement.'

This drew
several deep laughs, but Abby just made a disgusted face. What a
horrible man, she thought, bragging about violence like that. And
she'd thought the Guards in this time would be different.
Apparently not, they were still aggressive and foolhardy, just
without the wish to kill witches.

Further inane,
somewhat disturbing chatter continued to filter though the wall,
and Abby was running out of disapproving glares to give the
ceiling. But then a deeper voice joined the conversation, and
things became a lot more interesting indeed.

'What are you
doing here, Gov? Shouldn't you be at the City Guard House?'

'I came up to
report to our pretty-boy Captain that his useless search has
resulted in nothing but the wearing down of my lad's boots.'

A roar of
laughter erupted at the Gov's words, and Abby joined in with a
quiet laugh of her own. It was refreshing to know that the Captain
had his detractors.

'They got you
looking for that witch then, Gov?'

'If you can
call it a witch. That was the strangest looking witch,
nay woman, I ever did see,' the Gov said severely.

The men
appeared to agree.

'Give me 20
men, I said, and I'll take them into the Cross Roads and I'll get
you your witch,' the Gov said.

The Cross
Roads were the formal name for the slumps. Abby hardly ever heard
it called that these days, though technically, these days were
future days and she couldn't comment on the use of the name in the
past. Still, the word grabbed her interest, and she moved closer to
the wall.

'You don't
think it was one of them, do you?' said a man with a
quick whip of a voice, 'surely the Colonel would have known?'

'I'd say he
knew well enough, though I wouldn't catch any of you telling him
I'd said so. It makes sense, I told the Captain, I knows some of
them has magics.'

'But they're
men? What they doing on a broom? Ain't that against some magic
code? I thought only witches were supposed to ride brooms?'

'I reckon
those Turn Abouts would have trouble respecting their own mother,
let alone the rules of magics.'

There was a
murmur of agreement.

By now Abby
had her ear pressed against the wall and her heart was pounding. A
Turn About? The witch had been a Turn About? That would explain the
terrible vibe she'd received from it, and the way it had lithely
jumped from the broom and run across the roof. But who on Earth
would confuse a Turn About for a witch? Surely someone would have
noticed?

'Something
very strange is happening, you mark my words, boys. We are on the
cusp of something big here, so we all has to keep our eyes open,'
the Gov commanded with his booming friendly voice.

On the cusp of
something big? Turn Abouts, assassins, and witches? This didn't
have anything to do with the Ban, did it? Wasn't it some time
around now that it had come into effect?

Abby did not
know the historical context of the Ban, because there was no one to
ask who she trusted sufficiently to tell her. All she knew was that
it had been in effect for almost 20 years before Abby had come to
Bridgestock and it began due to an assassination. But it was clear,
from the existence of the Crones, to the friendly attitude of the
Gov, that the time her and Pembrake had stumbled into, was still
free from the Ban. Still, Abby had a horrible sinking feeling that
she'd just walked into something very, very important indeed.

If only she'd
had the opportunity to learn more about the history of the Ban, the
reason that it had come into effect. The real reason that was, not
the usual bigoted muck she had picked up from her general life in
Bridgestock. There must have been some incident that had taken the
witches from the favourable position they apparently enjoyed in
this time to the horrible ban in the future.

But for the
life of Abby, she did not know, or could not remember, what that
was. It couldn't all have been the assassination, could it? No one
would believe that a witch was capable of murder?

'You mark my
words, boys, this won't be ending here. Somebody is up to
something, and they ain't about to stop after one try. Keep alert,
and for god's sake, keep your eyes open.'

But whatever
situation her and Pembrake had just stumbled into, Witch Ban or
not, it sure did seem serious.

'What about
that guy what saved the Princess, sir, you think he's in on
it?'

Abby could not
press her ear any closer to the wall without pushing herself right
through.

'What saved
the Princess? Oh I don't recon it was him, son; I'd say it was the
witch what was with him what saved our Princess.'

The blood
drained form Abby's face and she barely stopped herself from
yelping in surprise. He knew?

'She does look
a bit witchy, doesn't she, sir?'

'Wise of them
not to pipe up in front of the Colonel though; that man is on a
vendetta. Still, poor girl deserves more than a feed for her good
deed – but that's the way of the kingdom these days, isn't it?
Reward those that you are most comfortable rewarding. But that
Colonel is a piece of work and no mistake,' the Gov's voice did not
reach a whisper, but it did become shallower, underscoring the
menace in his words.

Abby could
hear her own heartbeat racing away through the pressure of the wood
against her ear.

Unfortunately
after his most illuminating discussion, the Gov appeared to lose
interest in intrigue and began discussing the latest shipment of
weapons from the South Islands. Though the rest of the Guards found
this a much more engaging topic, Abby quickly became bored.

Soon after,
when her whirling thoughts had abated, Abby fell off to sleep. On
the edge of sleep, she had one final thought: in the morning it was
time to find out what was going on around here.

Abby managed
to make it through most of the morning without running into anyone
she shouldn't. Martha brought her breakfast and filled her in on
the gossip that the servants waiting on last night's dinner had
already spread through the kitchens. Apparently Pembrake was
proving to be a hot topic on everyone's lips, and Abby was soon
party to a whole host of theories. Most of them revolved around the
devilishly handsome Pembrake eloping with the Princess to the anger
and resentment of the Captain. Some of them had Pembrake, who was
apparently super human in the eyes of the maids, saving the
Princess from wild bears and winning the favour of the King only to
be killed tragically in a snowstorm. Abby had found most of them,
especially the snowstorm theory, to be so wildly fantastical that
they could actually possibly happen. For, as Ms Crowthy had once
pointed out, it's true what they say about fairytales seeping into
the real world. But they seep in, not through reality itself, but
through people's minds. Sometimes people find that the fairytale
ending to a circumstance is so unbelievably invigorating that that
is all they believe in, discuss, and hope for. And what with all
that attention, the fairytale ending is bound to pop up.