“And they’ve always seemed overeager to have me.” None of this was news. Dante had told me this before, but Albert had insights Dante could only guess at.
“Marriage laws, segregation, courtship appointments. It is a strange way to run a world, no?” Albert asks.
“They told us we had to be pure.”
“An antiquated means of control, but unfortunately many well-meaning parents and authorities bought into it. Those laws enabled the Guild to hide the true motivation behind their actions.”
“Which was?” Dante asks.
“Controlling the genetics of those who came into the weave,” he says. “We engineered Spinsters, cultivated the creative, life-giving nature of women, but Tailors were an unanticipated side effect.”
“How did it happen?” I ask.
“We studied boys, too. We needed to see how the experiments would affect male offspring. They did not seem to possess the necessary abilities, so we felt assured we could measure and control the populace. We could easily guess which girls might be born with the ability. Marriages were arranged, children were watched, we waited for signs.”
I recall Loricel telling me how she watched me, covered up for me. No one would second-guess her motives. It was clear she had wanted to be done with the system after decades of choosing sacrifice over self, but how had they not known I could be the thing they dreaded the most?
“So you tagged us?” Dante says with a note of disgust.
“I’m afraid so. When we realized we had misunderstood the nature of the genetic ability in boys, I saw my opportunity. A child born with both sets of the genetic makeup to weave and to alter could bind Earth off. Everything centered on that child.”
“It couldn’t have been a boy then?” I ask.
“No, only a girl could possess both genetic traits. The weaving trait refused to manifest in male children, but alteration could pass to a female. The Guild worked hard to prevent that through monitoring the population,” Albert explains.
“But I don’t understand,” Jost interrupts. “How can she have both if the abilities are both born of the same engineering?”
“The genes evolved, much in the way that genes have evolved to make us smarter, more resilient. Think of it as lines in a book.” Albert lifts a volume from the table near him and opens to a page. “We cannot have two line ones in the same book. Weaving is line one, and Tailoring, or altering, is line two. They are different lines of the genetic code. Adelice possesses both genetic lines from her parents. They are separate and unique abilities, even though on a fundamental level their structure and composition are strikingly similar.”
“And because I have both I can capture the elements needed to ensure Arras is whole—”
“While being able to tie it off, altering its fundamental makeup in the most profound way,” Albert says, his words more an intonation to the universe than fact.
“Good,” I say, blinking. “I wouldn’t want this to be easy.”
“I know it is a lot to take in,” Albert says.
“Yes, and we’re on a timetable,” Dante butts in. “We’re going to have to sort out this tangled web elsewhere.”
Albert gives him a curious look. “You assume Lucas will betray you?”
“Remember how we said we fell in with Kincaid,” I say quietly. “We gave him the slip, but it won’t take him long to track us.”
“I see,” Albert says. “If you have the abilities you claim, you know it will be difficult for me to leave this island. I will need your assistance.”
I pause and stare at him, not understanding.
“You must see it,” he prompts. “Use your sight, Adelice.”
Everything around me fades to the background, softening into a weave. The room comes to life in a snarl of colors and light. The time threads are frozen into place. I stare harder at Albert, willing myself to see his composition. It’s still difficult for me and I slow my breath and let go until he shifts into strands of the universe— strands tied to the time of this room.
“That’s why you’re allowed to live here,” I say. “They’ve bound you to this moment. This house.” Albert couldn’t leave if he wanted to, not without help from someone who had the skill to disentangle him from the weave of the house’s place and time. He was frozen in a prison of space and time.
“Say what?” Jost asks.
“He’s been altered. They’ve wound Albert’s strands into the time and matter here.” I turn pleading eyes to Erik, knowing he can see it as clearly as I can, but he gives me the barest shake of his head. He won’t reveal his secret, and I feel the burning promise I made to him in my very flesh.
“So he’s a part of the house,” Erik says slowly, obviously playing dumb.
“More or less,” I confirm for the benefit of the others.
“Can you, I don’t know, extract him?” Erik asks.
“I think I can.”
“I was hoping for a bit more assurance,” Erik says.
“I can,” I say more confidently, “with
Dante nods, surveying Albert and the objects in the room.
“Why don’t you guys wait outside?” Dante suggests.
As soon as the others leave, Dante comes to my side and I see the same look of concentration cross his face. I know he can see the composition of Albert and the objects in the room, which should be enough.
“Can you see it?” I ask.
“I think so, but, Ad, I’m not as gifted as you are,” he says, squeezing my hand. “I can see Albert’s strands, but it’s obvious this is more advanced than simple alteration. You need someone with real training. Someone who knows the Guild’s handiwork better than I.” The statement peaks on the final word, and he leaves it hanging there. He knows Erik can alter, but he leaves the suggestion open.
“I know, but that’s why I need
“Tie it off?” Dante says, unsure.
“You’ll see. Watch his strands, once he’s released from the time of the room, he’ll be leaching time, sort of like bleeding, I guess. You have to stop the bleeding. That’s all.”
Albert in the meantime has remained in his seat, watching us with fascination.
“Are you ready for us to try, Doctor?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says.
“I can’t guarantee anything,” I warn him.
“I understand and accept that. The mortal man in me is—admittedly—a bit afraid. Not so much of death but of pain. It was not pleasant when they did this to me in the first place. But the scientist in me is eager for the adventure. Your abilities fascinate me.”
“You say that now,” Dante mutters.
I take a deep breath and focus on the room. There are many strands at play in the composition of it, but perhaps because it’s more reminiscent of the artificial weave of Arras, I feel oddly at ease. I understand how this room exists and how Albert exists within it. He is part of the larger tapestry of the house, connected to the sluggish time strands that lie within its permanent architecture—objects locked into place and time. In short, a house. The trick will be to rend him of them quickly and with as little pain as possible. I focus harder until I see Albert, his natural time allotment interlaced with the permanent time of the house, locking him into place. I have to separate his strands and sever those of the room. If I fail, if I accidentally sever one of his natural time strands, the results could be disastrous, but I try not to think about that.
“I wish I had a hook or something,” I mutter.
“Why?” Dante asks in a shaky voice.
“I need to rip something. It would be easier.”
