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Loricel has set up in the makeshift rebound room they brought me through when I arrived. There’s a wide loom in front of her, larger than most I saw at the Coventry, including her personal loom in the high tower. It sits empty and I wish I could see the weave of Arras one more time, before it’s too late. I know it’s too dangerous to pull it up before we go, but there’s an ache building slowly in me at the thought of never touching the precise, wondrous strands on a loom again.
“How are you going to do this?” I ask her, staring at the instrument panel.
“It will be like when you rebounded through the various stations,” she says, adjusting gears in preparation.
“But that took an hour.”
“Because less talented people were at the looms and they had to wait for bureaucrats to tell them it was okay to start the process. Then, they were watched the whole time—”
“Okay.” I surrender. “I get it.”
“You’re in good hands,” she says.
“I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do this,” I say.
“That’s a shame,” Loricel says. “You must learn to open your heart again, Adelice.”
I think of Erik and Jost. I think of the little girl who might be dependent on me one day, and of my own sister. “I do trust people,” I say.
“I made you believe once that love is a liability.” Her eyes flicker to Albert.
“It is,” I say softly. I feel like half of myself is outside this room, going off on a dangerous mission I can’t control. I don’t allow myself to think about it for long because the tears creep up my throat, shredding my will to do this. But even as the fear grows in me, there is certainty. This is the right thing to do. Erik and I both know that. We wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves if we didn’t try.
“Perhaps,” she says, “but love also gives us the strength that we never knew we had.”
“I’m glad you’ll be together,” I tell her, looking over at Albert. “I wish you had longer.”
“Who can count the minutes she spends with the person she loves and not feel lucky?” she asks.
It’s easier to say that, knowing she’ll be with her love at the very end. Erik and I … I don’t want to think about. “I want one more minute.”
“You have it,” she says firmly.
“How can you know that?” I ask.
“I know,” she says. “Look closely.”
Before I can ask her what this means, Albert’s hand settles on my shoulder. “A final word?”
I nod, eyes stinging from the goodbyes. He leads me to a quiet corner and waits for me to speak. “I still have questions.”
“And we have run out of time for answers. That is a sad fact about life, Miss Lewys. If you’ll pardon the double entendre, not everything can be tied up in a neat bow.” His soft eyes sink under the weight of his years.
“Why does everyone believe I’m the Whorl?” I ask. “Because I can weave and alter?”
“It’s not your skills that make you special, it’s that you chose to fight. The Kairos Agenda called you the Whorl because they needed someone to believe in. All rebellions have men of words, few have men of action,” he says as his lips curve into a small smile.
“But they believe I was destined for this.”
“You know better,” he says. “We make our own destinies. Never forget that.” My mouth opens, but the questions die o
n my lips, because I’m pulled away from him and into the chair we’re using for the rebound.
This is unlike the other rebounds I’ve experienced. This time the bottom drops out from under me and the room shifts so quickly that my stomach flips, as though I’m falling. My hands fly to my sides as if my body is out of balance. They meet only with air. The world around me is a riot of color and sound. A clash of metallic strings shrieks through the space about me as though time is moving too quickly, throwing reality out of joint.
And then I find myself in the vermilion corridor of the high tower where I once lived. I race forward and knock on a door. No one answers and I rush to the stairs. I don’t have time to wait for the ancient brass elevator.
