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But at least I could see. Between the stars and the light from the bonfire flickering across the stones, I could pretty much make out everything. And for a tumbledown shack in the middle of nowhere, it was stocked pretty well.
“Did you do that?” I asked Louis-Cesare, eyeing the spread laid out on an old table.
It wasn’t anything fancy—coarse brown bread, wine, cheese, butter. And it looked like a lot of it had already disappeared, judging by the greasy wooden platters littered with crumbs and the empty wine barrel lying on its side. But still.
Louis-Cesare shook his head, and then stopped, wincing. “No. It is too difficult. I do not think I can imagine anything into existence at the moment.”
“You don’t think you can?” I repeated, my heart sinking.
“No, why?”
Because I’d kind of been counting on that bazooka. “Because I can’t, either.”
He frowned. “But this is your mind.”
“But it’s your memory.”
He peeled off his now-filthy shirt, which had gotten the worst of the path outside. It left him in rough brown trousers that laced up the front, a greasy bandanna around his neck and a pair of scuffed boots. “But you are gifted. Like your father.”
“No,” I reminded him sourly. “Dorina is gifted. And thankfully, she’s not here.” I glanced around again. “Wherever here is.”
“France,” he told me, reclining against the hay. “About ten miles from Saumur. Near the village where I grew up.”
“And the bacchanalia going on outside?”
“Vendanges.”
“The grape harvest?”
He nodded. “When I was young, before…” He licked his lips. “Before it was decided to send me away, I lived on a farm in the country. Every year, the local vineyard would hire young people to help pick the grapes, and to stomp them into wine. And once harvest was over, they threw a party.”
“That’s one word for it.” I turned back to the table and started loading up a tray, because it might be only imaginary food, but I was hungry.
“It became customary for young couples to leave early,” Louis-Cesare agreed. “And find one of these. The farmer had four or five scattered about the vineyard to make processing easier. The grapes did not have so far to go.”
“Just as well,” I said, eyeing Jehan through the missing wall. Who stared the stare of the completely blitzed back at me. But at least he didn’t cut wind again.
I guessed that was something.
I joined Louis-Cesare, and put the tray between us. Surprisingly, the blanket didn’t smell. Except of hay, which must not have been harvested too long before this. Because it gave off only the scent of earth and flowers, which blended well with the vinegary reek of the wine.
“How long until Mircea pulls us out?” I asked, slathering some butter on bread.
“He…was not sure.”
“Can’t you just ask him?”
His face answered that for me.
I sighed. “Why can’t you just ask him?”
“As soon as I entered my memories, I lost contact with your father,” he admitted. “Of course, the opposite may not be true, considering his skill. He may be able to take us out from here, once he fixes the problem.”
“Or he may not.”
“If he does not, then when I…in a little while, we can return to the wharf and contact him from there. He should be able to assist us, or at least give us an update.”
Yeah, as long as we manage to avoid evisceration first, I didn’t say, because it wouldn’t have helped. “But until then we’re on our own.”
