The World Walkers: Quiar: The Case of the Counterfeit Enchantments (part 9, 77th continuation)
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Part 9, 76th continuation
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Quiar remembered the first time she’d met Emrys and that was when they had a long conversation about the races that he planned on creating for her. He’d been honest from the beginning, which was something she was grateful for, so she’d always known that her people would be unusual, when compared to the races that the others were creating. They were experimenting, but not to the extent that he was, because he was in a very different position to them. Due to his connection with Athare he knew much more about the Webs and what he was a part of, while the others had no idea at that early stage. It wasn’t until Emrys had finally found the courage to tell them how much he knew that things changed.
Some of his fellow creators didn’t believe him. He hadn’t expected them to, so this wasn’t much of a problem, although some of those who didn’t were people he felt he knew him well enough to accept what he was telling them was the truth. That was something he’d talked to all of his worlds about, because it hurt when he realised that people he’d trusted thought he was making up a story to give him a reason for why he’d always tried to tell them which were the best worlds to chose. Quiar had hugged him then, as he’d been through so much, and that was just the beginning for poor Emrys. Even though he sometimes hated being the one that Athare trusted, that Athare had chosen, he realised that he was the right person for the job.
That didn’t make it any easier. He was always on the outskirts, no matter what. Even though he spent time with those creators who did believe him, like Riordan, Bronwen, Eithne, and Piaras, he didn’t feel close to them. They were close to each other, they’d been friends for years, and he’d always been focused on what was coming. From the first time he was visited by Athare he knew that it was more important that he was prepared for the future that was coming, the future that no one else was expecting, so that’s exactly what he did, at the expense of looking after himself. His people, even if he didn’t like them that much, came first.
Maybe he knew then how hard it was going to be for them to survive on Athare. Quiar didn’t know exactly what Athare had shown her chosen one and she thought it was better that way. As Athare always knew so much more than the other worlds, in part through choice, because it was easier for them to not have too much information to deal with, otherwise it would make the decisions they had to make much more difficult than they needed to be. Sometimes it was also better that they didn’t know what was coming - but that was always down to Athare and her future selves, as they had a better idea of what would happen if the worlds were told what the future might bring.
It was strange to think that if it wasn’t for Emrys she wouldn’t exist. Quiar bit her lip, realising that she should have asked him more questions when she had the chance to, but she’d been young and hadn’t realised what was important. The time might come when she could talk to him again, if she was lucky enough, although she wasn’t certain when that might be - he’d spend so much of his life travelling through time that she had no idea when he might actually appear again. Everyone believed it would be for when the wards fell and the fae once again became a part of Athare, but that didn’t mean they were right. He might not appear for another century.
“Where is Emrys?” Quiar asked.
“At the moment he’s travelling,” Athare replied, almost smiling. “I don’t know exactly when he’ll appear, because that’s up to the doors, but we work well enough together that it should be soon. He’s going to be here before the wards fall - I want him to meet Lucille, which can’t happen until she leaves Quiar, but I don’t want him to be here when the wards do fall, as strange as that sounds. For things to work the way I hope they will he can’t be here then, so I’ll be sending him to a different time once he’s had a couple of years to relax… if it’s even possible for him to.”
“Being the one chosen to travel through time can’t be easy.”
“He tells me it isn’t, when we have a chance to speak, and yet I know he would never have given the job to someone else. Even though he isn’t always happy he is satisfied with the job he does. Sometimes, though, not having the chance to settle down, to have a home and a family the way his colleagues did, gets to him. We’ve talked before about whether it would be easy if he stopped and did just that, but he said right now he’s happy to keep going, and he’ll tell me if the time comes when he isn’t.” Athare shrugged. “I think he’s lying to me. Emrys isn’t the sort of person to give up if he feels he has a job to do.”
“Does he know that he has children?” Gaelom looked at Athare. “Does he know what he left behind when it was time for him to leave the Moonjumpers he saved?”
Athare shook her head. “I haven’t told him, because it’s not going to do any good. Other fae men have had children they walked away from, more than I can count on both hands sometimes, as the fae, in general, don’t make good parents. Especially when they’re someone who needs to travel through time.” She sighed. “My feeling is, and I’m normally right when it comes to Emrys, is that he would have chosen to leave even if he did know, but he’d have just felt guilty about it. He knows how much I need his help, so he’d have put that first.”
“You don’t know for certain though.”
“No, I don’t.”
“So really, Mother, you were being selfish. You put your needs first and chose not to tell Emrys something that might have stopped him from following the plans you had laid out for him.” Gaelom sounded, unsurprisingly, angry, which was something Quiar accepted, but didn’t agree with. “If you’d have told him about his children he might have chosen to stay, instead of leaving the way you wanted him to, so you kept the information a secret.”
“I did too,” Quiar admitted. “Emrys spent some time here, in a different form, and he ended up fathering three daughters. Before he left I could have told him about them, but I chose not to because I knew him. If I’d have told him it would have made things much harder than they needed to be - he would have wanted to stay, even though he knew he needed to leave, and it would have torn him apart in the end. Personally I thought he was better off not knowing. So did the mother, otherwise she would have told him.”
Gaelom looked at Quiar. “The mother of Emrys’ children made the choice not to tell him, but I think that he deserves to know the truth,” he said quietly. “Now that it’s been millennia since they were born and he doesn’t know that they existed.”
“Honestly, Gaelom, I’m not certain what he does and doesn’t know. When he’s around I don’t spend all of my time watching him. There’s every chance he already knows about his children, his grandchildren, his great-grandchildren…” Athare shook her head. “He doesn’t tell me everything that he’s found out while he’s doing the jobs that I ask him to do. We accept that we keep secrets from each other, because if we didn’t our relationship wouldn’t be as strong as it is…”
Raenarin smiled. “Does he know that you’re in love with him, Mother?” she asked, quietly.
“Even though I haven’t told him I think he knows. It just isn’t something that either us of seems to want to talk about.” Athare bit her lip. “How could he ever reciprocate, Rae? I’m a sentient world. It’s much easier for the two of us to ignore the truth.”
“Stranger things have happened.” Raenarin reached out and squeezed Athare’s hand. “Maybe the reason he doesn’t say anything is because he doesn’t know how to.”
Shrugging, Athare looked down. “The charm’s beginning to work,” she said, as though she was changing the subject to something safer, and Quiar didn’t blame her. It was something she was particularly comfortable talking about either. “It shouldn’t be long before it does whatever it’s supposed to do. Do you know which one it was Lucille used or do was have to wait and see.”
Quiar looked down herself. “Wait and see.”
Mirrored from K. A. Webb Writing.