Param got up from her chair and walked to the door. She put her hands on Umbo’s shoulders. “What are you planning, Umbo?” she asked.
“I’m planning to do whatever we decide to do,” said Umbo, puzzled by the question.
“If you push Rigg into the past,” she said, “and then leave him there, he can’t get back to the present. He can’t see paths in the future. He can’t shift forward.”
“But I won’t leave him there,” said Umbo, blushing as he realized what treachery she was accusing him of.
“I’m sorry,” said Param, “but I’m trying to figure out what great wellspring of loyalty you’re drawing from here. Aren’t you the one who got rid of Rigg before, when we were still on our way to Odinfold?”
This was too much to bear, coming from her. “You’re the one who refused to go on hiking! I was trying to help you.”
“You were trying to get out from under Rigg’s thumb,” said Param. “Don’t blame it on me. Stranding Rigg in the past would make you the only time-shifter left here in the present.”
“But I won’t do that,” said Umbo.
“And we know that because . . .”
“Because I say so,” said Umbo.
“And we’re supposed to take the word of a peasant boy?” asked Param scornfully.
“The word of peasant boys is worth a lot more than the word of the royal family, as far as I’ve been able to see!” shouted Umbo.
In answer, Param gave him a shove out the door.
Umbo stumbled backward, lost his footing on the ramp, and fell off to the side into the grass. Above him, he could hear Param say to Rigg, “Now let’s take the flyer and go.”
“I see,” said Rigg.
“See what?” asked Param.
“That you’re our mother’s true daughter,” said Rigg.
Umbo was still getting to his feet when he heard a scuffle above him. He looked up to see Param stumbling down the ramp, tripping, falling.
Umbo might have caught her, or broken her fall a little. Instead he ducked under the ramp. She fell unimpeded into the grass, just as he had. Only she wasn’t used to falling. She didn’t have the catlike reflexes that Umbo had developed growing up in Fall Ford, playing in the woods, by the river, on the rocky cliffs, climbing every tree, every boulder, with other boys and many a girl scuffling with him. She fell like a lump and then cried out in pain; she curled up, holding her elbow.
Umbo had seen the elbow bend way too far in the wrong direction. And now it hung limply. Torn ligaments, broken bones—it had to be one or the other, or both. It wasn’t a hinge joint anymore. It was more like loose skin between two bones.
“That was ugly,” said Umbo.
Param screamed in agony and then . . . disappeared.
“Param,” cried Rigg, rushing down the ramp. “I didn’t mean to . . .”
Loaf and Olivenko followed him out of the flyer and down the ramp. “Rigg, you stupid little—” Loaf
began.
“I know!” shouted Rigg. “But she had no right to treat Umbo that way! Who does she think she is?”
“She thinks she’s the Queen-in-the-Tent of the Sessamids!” said Olivenko. “And oh, surprise: As soon as your mother dies, she is.”
“She’s not queen of anything, here,” said Rigg.
“She’s my queen wherever she is,” said Olivenko.
“Well isn’t that sweet,” said Loaf. “As big a collection of idiots as I’ve ever seen in my life.”