“Yes. And it’s something that can’t be cured by herbals or bleeding or a barber-surgeon whose idea of sound medical care is amputation.” Celine could hear her voice rising.
“Then we must send you home on the first dark of the moon,” Brynna said emphatically, making a measurement on the chart with an odd little metal device that looked like an elaborate protractor.
“When will it be exactly? Can you tell?”
“A fortnight ...” Brynna muttered, moving the tool across the chart, “then another se’nnight ... it will occur three weeks from this night, Lady Celine. The first night that the moon begins to wane from full. And I believe that somewhere ... hmm ...” She set the protractor aside and started rifling through the sheaves of her father’s writings piled on the table. “I think my father makes mention of that—how the waxing and waning may affect the time-journey.”
“Come in on the waxing moon, go out on the waning moon. That makes sense.” Celine tried to remain calm, but her stomach was churning. Three weeks. Did she have three weeks?
“Aye, if only I could find the note,” Brynna said, tossing aside sheets of her father’s scribbles. “Ah—here it is.” She held up a page triumphantly, then leaned closer to the candlelight and began to read. “Hmm ... indeed ... ah, most interesting! Listen carefully, milady. Here is what you must do.”
Chapter 9
“What?” Celine asked nervously. “What must I do?”
Brynna read the page again. “My father mentions here the Druid legends that speak of people coming back in time, and says he knew of such people himself.” She lifted her gaze. “I remember him telling such tales when I was young, but I never quite knew whether he was merely making them up to amuse me. You are the first time-traveler I have ever met.” She glanced back at the parchment. “He says that not all of those he knew managed to return home. Some were trapped here, and lived out their days in this time—”
“Oh, my God,” Celine whispered.
“Nay, milady. It is no cause for alarm. He says it will work as you said—in on the waxing moon, out on the waning moon. But there is a secret to making the return passage successfully. A key to open the door.”
“A key.” Celine took a deep breath, forcing her fear to the back of her mind, “What kind of key? I’ve got to get it right the first time, Brynna. If I make a mistake—”
“Nay, you will not. My father says that those who were successful went out precisely as they came in. You simply must imitate, as closely as possible, the instant you were sent back in time. Stand in the same spot, wearing the same garments you were wearing, even thinking the same thoughts. The key, milady, is that you must be complete—you cannot leave anything behind. And you cannot take anything from this time with you.” She glanced up again. “You have been here but a few days. Do you still have all the belongings you arrived with?”
Celine didn’t need to think about it for more than a second. She remembered vividly the moment she had awakened in Gaston’s bed. “Yes,” she said with relief. “Yes, I do! All I had with me was my teddy—an undergarment that women wear in my time. It’s considered rather indecent here. The serving women wanted to burn it, but I insisted on keeping it because it’s my only link with home. I’ve still got it, in my room!” Her fear gave way to growing excitement. This was going to work. She was going home. Back to her time, her family, her life.
Brynna smiled. “Then you should have no difficulties, milady. My father says here that only those time-travelers who had lost or discarded something they arrived with could not return home.”
“So I’ll just put on my teddy, think twentieth-century thoughts, and if the moon will cooperate ... ” Celine smiled, hope and anticipation building within her. “I get zapped and wake up safe and sound in 1993.”
“Aye.” Brynna laughed. “Three weeks from this night, milady. Mark it well. The ‘eclipse,’ as you call it, will occur on the first night after the moon reaches full, just as it begins to wane.”
Celine nodded. Three weeks. No way would she forget. Waxing in, waning out. The idea made perfect, logical sense. “Thank you. I’m so grateful for your help.” She stood and picked up her cloak, realizing she had kept poor Brynna awake half the night. “I’d like to send one of the serving girls with some food and things from the castle, if that would be all right—please, for Fiara?”
Brynna looked like she was going to object at first. Hard experience had clearly made her a fiercely independent woman, not the sort to accept charity. But at the mention of her child, she swallowed her pride. “Aye, milady. I thank you for your kindness to my daughter.”