By the time I brought the tray full of drinks out to the girls, Lirala’s mood had darkened again.
“What took you so long?” She glared at me.
“This is not an easy cocktail to make.”
“Tell me about it,” Preity said, to break the tension.
“Oh, it’s from Earth, of course,” I said. “From a city called New Orleans, which apparently was some kind of big party hotspot before it flooded and turned into a swamp.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Yeah, well, back in the day, it was famous for its bars and restaurants and music. The Vieux Carré was invented at a bar in New Orleans and named after an old neighborhood.”
Preity turned to Lirala. “And why did you choose this for us?”
“What’s your problem? You don’t like it?”
Preity blanched. “No, it’s great. I was just curious.”
Now it was my turn to intervene. “Lir has almost a sixth sense about drinks. And she has a very refined palate. I’ve learned to just go with her instincts.”
“Damn right,” Lirala said, taking a generous gulp of her Vieux Carré.
“So, do you approve, dear?” I asked Lirala.
She took another mouthful and held it in her mouth for a moment. Probably just for effect. Then she gulped it down and said, “It’s passable, Jannigan. But, really, you need to stock your bar a bit more thoroughly.”
“Duly noted.”
We had several more rounds of drinks, interspersed with winkle dust to counteract any depressant qualities of the alcohol. I could tell that Lir was getting close to wanting to move things into the bedroom, and that’s what I was a bit worried about.
Fortunately the catering arrived, and we switched to some expensive wine to go along with the truffle oil roast salmon and mushrooms. And oysters. We had to have oysters. It was kind of like a private joke between Lir and me.
Over a dessert of honeyed figs with lemon mascarpone and candied walnuts—also a favorite of Lirala’s—I remembered something.
The night before our expedition went into the Fountain, I had been feeling a little lonely. I should have called Lirala, but I didn’t. I called Preity instead.
We ended up talking for a long time, telling each other about our lives, joking around, and basically getting to know each other. I remember Preity telling me that she had six older sisters. Preity had said that she was close with all of them except one.
That fact stuck in my head, mostly because I was an only child and I have always wondered what it would be like to have siblings.
Looking across the table at Preity, who was laughing and flirting with Lirala, I saw my chance. If I remembered something that there was no way I could have known, it might confirm my gut feeling that my memories were real. So I just went for it.
“Preity, you have six sisters, right?”
“What? How did you know that?” She smiled at me in surprise.
“Have you been creeping her, Jannigan?” Lirala asked.
“No, of course not.” I turned to Preity. “You must have mentioned it when we met at my party last night.”
“I thought you didn’t remember anything.” Lirala’s eyes narrowed.
I was definitely walking through a minefield here, but I had to keep going.
“Just flashes coming back to me,” I said. “I think the figs are good for my memory.” I popped the last one into my mouth.
“Well, I’m glad you are in a remembering mood, because it’s nearly time for you to atone for your sins.”
Uh oh. Lir’s dark mistress persona was making herself known. That meant my punishment was imminent.
She stood up, dabbed her mouth daintily, and excused herself to freshen up. “When I return, the games shall begin.”
Once Lirala was out of earshot, I turned back to Preity. “You get along well with all of your sisters except one, right?”
She put her fork down and stared at me. “How do you know that?”
“The middle one, right?”
“I’m serious, Jannigan. How do you know that?”
“You told me,” I said matter-of-factly.
“I don’t think so. I don’t really talk about my family. Especially to someone who I don’t know.”
I leaned across the table and looked her in the eyes. “Do you remember having a long conversation with me? Like for two hours?”
“What? No.”
“What if I were to tell you that I remember our conversation? You told me all about your family, and your life back on Amravadi, and how the culture there is very different than here, and how you felt like you belonged here more than back home, but that you felt guilty about that.”
As I continued, Preity’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. I told her that I remembered her telling me about the Grand Tour, and how she wasn’t looking forward to going to Rygond and Kulah-to, and she was trying to convince her aunt to let her stay here and work at the stables. I kept going, reeling off all kinds of personal stuff she had told me.
“This is crazy,” she said. “There is no way you could know all that about me.”
“I could if you told me.”
“But I didn’t!”
“Listen, Preity. I think something happened to me—something I’m having a hard time explaining.”
“Maybe you should take it up with your therapist.”
“I’m completely serious. I think that I might have traveled through time.”
She stared at me for a moment, with a look of incomprehension on her face. Then a big grin appeared.
“Lirala told me you had a weird sense of humor.”
At that moment, Lirala sauntered in. She had changed into a black serylene catsuit with braided cut-outs and a harness top that left nothing to the imagination.
“Wow,” I said. I had forgotten how toned Lir’s body was. I knew it was mostly because of metabolic enhancers and an intense muscle stimulation regimen, but she still looked damn good.
“You look hot,” Preity said.
“Of course I do, darling.” She struck a few poses for us. “Shall we retire to the lounge for a nightcap?”
I knew it wasn’t really a question.
“Of course,” I said, motioning the women towards the low, long divan in the lounge.
“I
