Dreams and other Portents

I glance up at him, surprised. "I have no idea. If it's real, it could be anywhere in Britian or Ireland, or in my mother's country. It's a sidhe, a hollow hill that the People of the Hill live within. A house of theirs. They are pretty common wherever the Sidhe live."

I take the book and rifle the pages, looking for any sign of where the sketch may have come from, any note the author may have left. "No, it was this hill... I recognize the flowers and door..." All the tags on the picture say is 'Barrow' and I fling the book into one of the high backed chairs in frustration, sending up a plume of dust.

I wrinkle my nose, and sneeze. "Let's worry about getting out of here right now, we can do research later." I begin to step carefully about the room, checking for windows, doors, any easy egress. I could sing us through, but I have no idea how big this house is or how far we'll have to go, and I'd rather save my energy in case I need it.

I flop into the chair after the book and groan. "They wouldn't have made our bonds so loose if they thought we could get out that way." I say, waving my hand at the door. Even in the blue green light, I can see the steel rivets in the wood of the door. "This is a hall of records... They would make it secure from intruders, and by contrast..." I taper off and motion to the thick bars over the air vents. "Best to sit back and hope they feed us."

I growl. "To hell with that." Turning back to the wall, I raise my song, sinking into the wood, reminding it of when it was atoms in air. I reach my hands out, moving forward...then yelp, drawing back sharply. "Damn it by yew and flint and ice!" I snarl, "Iron in the walls! Bastards! Those bastards!"

Upon hearing the curses rising behind my chair, I raise a hand with a flourish. "Told you so. Some one with a gas torch and a reasonable smooth stick could break in here, but our 'skills' are useless, as we're the ones they want to keep out, normally." I sigh.

I'm too angry and frustrated to curse. I hiss loudly, and kick the wall, growling. Then, finally, I lower my head. Shoulders slumped, I drop to the carpet beside Djhuety's chair.
"When I get ahold of the ones who put us in here..." I mutter, but there's no power behind it now. I sigh. "Well, I guess we can get some research in while we wait. What else is in there?"

I pass her the book again before digging for my own in the stack, surfacing with what appears to be a photo album. "May hapes we can figure out how long they've been following me."

Rubbing the back of my head, which is still twinging, I set the book down and take the photo album from him, flipping it open. "You read, I'll look at pictures."
I open the book. The first few pictures are actually small copies of paintings, with notes next to each. The first is a painted image of a woman with dark auburn hair tied up in a bun and a pale haired man in a long coat, standing side by side. '1630' reads the note, 'Mary Feeson marries James Smith. Single descendent??' Feeson…that name’s French. Son of Fee, it means. ‘Fee’ is one of the words for fate, and for something else I think…. and red hair again. Something niggles in the back of my mind...but it's gone before it makes any sense.
The next few images are also wedding paintings, or family portraits. Most of the people in the paintings have reddish or blonde hair, with the odd brown-haired child. The next few images are very stiff photos. There's one of a pretty young woman beside a tallish man, who looks familiar to me, though I can't place why. My brow furrows as I flip forward. In the next picture, the man and woman are holding a child in a long white dress. '1875' reads the note, 'Alfred and Moira Hillman, with boy. New descendent. Group C assigned.' But after a picture of the couple with a three-year-old boy, there aren't any more family pictures. The next picture shows an orphanage with the children who belonged to it assembled in the front. There's a note that reads 'third row, second from left." I look. A very skinny, very pale little boy with a sad face stands where the note stated. And then something gets a little odd. All the pictures are of the boy, but the dates seem...off. Here's one of him in knickers, very blurry as he runs down the street, and one fifteen years later, the quality of the picture far better, but the boy looks exactly the same age in both. And then there's a picture twenty years later in date, but the boy's only five years older, looking terribly skinny and with hair so short that it's naught but a stubble. He must be about twelve. And then there's another picture. My eyes widen. I look up to Djhuety, then back at the picture. The fifteen-year-old is still skinny, but his face is close enough to what it will be in adulthood to be recognized. In my head, everything finally clicks into place. I should have realized it much earlier, but the dates had me assuming the wrong thing. I was thinking in terms of human time and human restrictions, assuming everyone involved was mostly human…. but I had it wrong. Idiot. If I turn it around, if I think in terms of Sidhe blood and Sidhe resources…yes. Everything fits.
"Here's the answer to how long they've been at you. A very long time. A very long time indeed" I say quietly. He looks up, and I push the album forward. "This is you, isn't it?" I meet his eyes, which are swirling from one shade of blue to another as he studies the images, "It was the dates, how long ago they were. That's what had me puzzled, why it took so long for me to get it, but once I realized, it made great sense. This album is your family. Your whole family. And your pictures…you moved forward in time every few years. That’s a grand trick. I didn't know you could do that. Can you do it right now? Get us out of here?"

Confusion crosses my face. "What are you talking about? Moving us in time?" I pause, my finger marking my place in the book I've been searching. "Explain to me exactly what this is." I tap the album, "Because I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

I frown. "Don't be thick. Look at these pictures." I flip to the image of the orphanage. "Remember this?"

I make a sour face. "Of course... Dymstras was a hell you don't forget... It burned down and they shunted me to some rich lady's house until they found a new place for me." I sigh heavy, "I often wonder why she didn't adopt me after all the attention she paid." Grey's tint my eyes with sparks of green flashing when I smile at a happy memory.

"Look at the date." I say, tapping the number '1880'. He looks at it, his brows wrinkling, his eyes fading to a funny grey-blue.

Hesitantly, "Yeah... that sounds about right..." Liv's stressed dates in the past, but the whole thing is generally over my head... I focus on what I've seen and heard (which happens to be a lot; imagine, two world wars and me to young to fight in either). The only way I knew I had a birthday was when the orphanages told me. My time with Leanan was the first time I ever remember any one else telling me. She said she found it in my school records. "What's the big deal?"

I roll my eyes. "Honestly, Djhuety, it's the Kindred who are supposed to be bad with time and numbers. You're almost human, you should be good at this." I stab my finger down at an image. "Look. Eighteen nintey eight. And here, nineteen twelve. You're the same age. Ninteen ninteen and nineteen twenty eight, and you look like you've aged five years at the most. And here..." I point to an image labeled '1929' and one labeled '1943' The boy in the picture looks exactly the same. I flip back to the image of the man and woman holding the baby. "You were born in 1875. Here's your parents, holding you as a baby." I look up. "Either you're a great deal older than you told me, or you have been moving through time. There's no other explanations."
Slowly, his eyes pore over the image of the tall man and the woman holding the white-clad baby.

"Djhuety," I say quietly as he stares down, 'this year we're in right now, it's 2012. Think about it."

Still frowning, I gaze at the photos, absently turning the pages. "mayhaps I have, but I haven't DONE it..." I pause between two pictures. "These were taken at the start and end," I point to each respectively, "of a summer; the grounds keeper and the gardeners needed help on a large estate, and the orphanage said that they wanted me..." I tail off...

"Then why are they dated six years apart?" I ask quietly.

"It was only a summer! I'd remember if the seasons had changed more then once! I'm not deaf to the world, you know." I glower. "You explain it."

I shrug. "You moved from one summer to another. You...or someone...is very good with Time. Slips the changes in neatly, seamlessly, slipping you in and out of the years..." My eyes widen. "To keep you away from these people!" I say as the realization hits me. "To keep them confused, because you were forever fading in and out of where and when they thought you'd be....it's perfect!" With a look at his expression, I smile ruefully. "Well, it's a mostly perfect system, anyhow." I flip back. "Look at these. They've all got your bone structure. Your blonde hair. This is your family. They've been tracking your line for...well, ages."

I flip back to the first picture and its label. "Then who are they... who am I?" A little pain slips into my voice, but I force it back down with a heavy swallow.

I hold his eyes. "They are your kin. And you are Djhuety, the Talespinner, Speaker of Power." Then I start. There are footsteps and voices outside the doors. I turn back to Djhuety sharply. "Grab those things. We need to get out of here, now." I desperately feel in the air for other worlds, any other worlds I can take us into. Nothing. Fine, gods damn it. In llieu of that, I start for the door the voices can be heard behind. If I can stand behind it as they come in, then they'll learn what it's like to fight me properly, when I'm not surprised and overwhelmed. I may not have my knife, but I have my teeth, and my fists, and my blood is on the boil. Oh yes, this fight I'll enjoy.

I open my mouth, intending to speak, but before I utter a word, Three figures slide into the room from nowhere; two have to be the toughs that caught us, but the third... A big black beast on fours walks in the lead, roughly the size of a small pony. Wings like oil flick as it rearranges its feathers and looks sharply around the room with green eyes. "Sylus..." I whisper before seeing my mistake... this isn't one of the Azure.

I take up a fighting stance. "What do you here among these children of lies and blood, Kin of the Air?" I demand, only realizing after the words are out that I've fallen into the courtly language reserved for the Kindred courts. The griffin looks at me apprasingly with its great bird eyes.

"As I see, they have not harmed you unduly; should you resist, I figure they won't be so gentle." The beak clacks and one of the men lifts a heavily bandaged hand with a grunt.
"Pretty one's mine." He grunts.
"In good time." The gryphion straightens, spreading it's wings and placing a talon on the speaker's chest. He winces at the contact but makes no effort to move away from the gryphion, now standing eye to eye with us on its rears and re-tucking it's wings. "We need them to get to grandma's house first."
I shift uneasily, surprised by this new twist. I fumble with the books and free a hand. "What in the nine levels are you talking about?"