"To arms!"

  I started cramming myself back into my body, but it was not a process to be rushed. Hurrying just made it harder. My family started to rouse, blinking out of their stupors and recognizing the sounds of battle around them. My first taste of combat and action, and I'm stuck in a coma!

  The carriage was drawing to a stop, horses screaming. The guards on horseback were charging, I could hear their shouts and the whinny of their horses, steel scraping clear of their scabbards, hooves thudding against the road. I did not hear answering shouts or battle-cries, or horses. I did not hear boots or horses. All I could hear was someone putting clean dishes back in the cupboard.

  The fuck?

  My father threw his coat and lap blanket aside, grasped for his dagger, and pulled one window open an inch. He glanced back at us, making sure his family was safe. Mother was holding Nathan and i, a protective mama bear. Nathan was a coiled spring, ready to fight, but watching his father for instructions. I was a turnip, dead to the world.

  "I'm going to go left, fight a few, get them to follow me," Father said. "Get the kids and bolt to the right, get into the culvert and follow it north to town."

  I started to panic. Father's plan was a good plan if I was a normal sorceress. But Untethered Essence was a real danger to me- if my mother carried my body outside of my soul, it would be exactly the same thing as having my soul pulled out of my body! This, may I point out, is notoriously bad for you.

  With my frantic state, i could not control my body's muscles. I need to practice working my body from the outside. Tonight was not the night to practice. And with the noise and trouble, I don't think that anyone could hear the halting and broken way that I speak in this state. I had very few options at my disposal.

  I pulled on my mana. I formed a steel chain and manacle attached to my ankle, connected to a massive steel staple in the floor of the carriage. I could hear crossbows firing outside, clack-whsssht-thunk. Our guards did not carry crossbows.

  "Matthew!" my mother hissed, staring. She pointed at my ankle. Father looked, saw it, and his face went pale.

  "We have to rescue her right now," he said. "Something's happening and-"

  They thought I was under attack. Father grabbed the chain and tried to rip it up so I could be dragged to safety. This sucked- normally one of my family's greatest assets is how well we communicate. But right now, I've got no way to make myself known other than my very specific magical powers. Well, fine.

  Gold. I covered Nathan's wrists in gold bracelets, his fingers with rings. He stared down. "Pirate treasure," he breathed. "Father, it's her! She's doing this!"

  The duke paused, his hands still straining against the steel chain. "What? Can't be! Sorcerers can't cast in their sleep!"

  "I don't think she's asleep," Nathan said, glancing at me.

  The crockery outside was getting closer. The carriage was at a stop, so I relaxed my boundaries and billowed out, spilling out through the walls and windows of the coach. Now I could see our attackers- a terracotta army.

  My eyes at night do not require more than shaded starlight to see clearly. My vision in this form is impeccable. The eyes are the windows to the soul, but they are clouded, distorted, narrow windows. The soul itself sees best of all. And I could see fired-clay warriors advancing, joints clattering, rudimentary faces unmoving. Blood dripped from their bared swords, and half of them were reloading crossbows in a mechanical, methodical fashion. At least a dozen of them still, and our footmen were dead. Down their backs, rows of glyphs were enscribed, giving them their animation and their orders.

  Then they stopped, and stood straight and still. From each of them, a single joined voice rose up. "Duke Matthew Harigold. On behalf of loyal followers of the kingdom of Hearstwhile, we are calling for your arrest. Surrender yourself to custody that the loyal followers of the king and queen may place you and your accomplices on trial for defying a royal order!"

  Duke Matthew looked over at Mother. "This- this is about the tax order. We can work this out."

  Mother scoffed. "You're smarter than that. This is not an official action, this is an assassination with extra steps."

  She was right, and the clay soldiers were advancing again, swords raised. But whoever sent them* was working with old information, and did not know about the sorceress daughter. I crafted more steel. A sword appeared in Father's lap, another one next to Nathan, and one for Mother. I crafted iron bars outside the carriage, long staves of rebar laying pick-up-sticks in the tall grass for the terracottas to trip over.

  "Sword?" Mother said. "I think she means us to fight our way through this."

  I intended more than that! I crafted a hammer, huge and hard, with a diamond-shaped head for breaking pottery open. I went to curve steel to lift it and swing it- but there was no mana for me.

  [ MP: 0/2 ]

  There's a reason I don't do more work in my sleep. Most of my mana comes from the bond between my essence and my body. Untethered, I lose most of my power. I wasted my chance when I crafted gold to convince them I was here and paying attention.

  Mother hefted her sword. "Not really my weapon," she said, frowning. "Natalie, dear, could I trouble you for a warhammer?"

  I made one before her, leaning against a bench seat. Not a big stupid movie hammer, but a real warhammer, with a long handle and a focused head, to build up a lot of momentum and concentrate it on a narrow target. I could not give it a wooden haft, so it was steel all the way through, with a narrower and lighter handle. Nathan drew the rapier I'd made for him, I had done my best to remember what size and style he usually trained with.

  Father burst open the door like a charging bear, shouting. He ran at the enemy with a broadsword raised, swinging, ready to defend his family. Mother was out the opposite door a second later, sprinting to flank the soldiers that turned to face her roaring husband. Nathan was behind Father just a second later, moving in his shadow, looking for a way to help.

  My family, the metaphor.

  Six crossbows raised up to point at the duke, but I came from a world that invented trigger locks. I formed steel casings that fused the weapons in place, kept the string from releasing. The programmed warriors aimed, and pulled, and kept aiming, kept pulling at useless triggers. They were not able to adapt. A half-dozen potted swordsmen advanced at a steady march, and hit the jumble of iron bars hidden in front of them. As I expected, they were not very nimble or balanced, and three of them tumbled to the ground before they could recover.

  Father bellowed as he sprinted, sword raised in batter's swing, aiming right for the nearest soldier's face. It raised its sword to parry, and at the last second the duke's leading knee folded, dropping him to a crouch, and the swinging sword came through at stomach-height instead, crashing into the crockery warrior and chopping chips out of it, knocked it to the side. All three active combatants pivoted to face him, but found his guard was even better than his swing.

  Mother's warhammer split down, and a head shattered to pieces. The damaged terracotta staggered, blinded, and her follow-up swing smashed into the glyphs that were baked into its back. Without the powering scrivenings, the ceramic assassin dropped instantly, now nothing but kiln-fodder.

  Nathan pounced on one of the fallen warriors that was struggling back up to its feet, and used the basket-hilt of his sword to punch down against the shoulder blades, damaging the script-work. Father's foot stomped down on another, forcing it back to the ground, while he kept hacking at the one he had wounded.

  The crossbow-wielding manikins defaulted to a new order, and dropped the useless weapons, and drew steel. They started to advance. But then a giant golden orb the size of a writing-desk crashed down onto them from a great height, shattering four out of the six under that falling weight. The two that escaped that fate found themselves hobbled by steel chains, restricting their legs.

  Mother was going down a row of terracotta targets, her warhammer was a perfect match for the friable glyphs that powered the enemies. One-two-three went down in a hurry, and she stood back, panting, while her husband methodically chopped down the last one. Nathan retreated, wiping at some cuts on his hands, looking around to make sure the ambush was over. Mother held her hammer in both hands, glaring over it at the darkness, as if daring the night itself to endanger her babies.

  Me? I concentrated on compressing myself back into my own body.

  By the time I was ready to sit up and speak again, my family was sitting in the coach again, with the door open to let in a cool breeze. They were all sweat-sheened, but had gotten their breath back at least. I pulled myself upright, and they startled at my movement. "Sorry about that," I said. "It's really hard for me to leave that state."

  Father nodded. "We figured that must be the case. Why the chain?"

  "Without my body to tether it, the soul does not move well. If you had carried me to safety, you'd have brought a lifeless husk with you."

  Mother shuddered. "Lesson learned. Don't move Natalie when she's asleep." She watched her hammer disappear. "You saved our lives."

  I chuckled. "That was a mutual life-saving. I could hardly have been more helpless."

  "These were sent," Nathan murmured. He was winding gauze around his hands, flying shards of ceramic had nicked him in a dozen places. "They were placed to ambush us."

  We all glanced at my father, the target of this attempt. Programmed assassins with crossbows and shoot-to-kill orders, calling him by name. He sat on the bench, with his elbows on his knees, staring back at all of us. "Why terracottas? Why not send human soldiers?"

  Nathan looked out the door at the potter's field of mayhem. "Soldiers might talk. This plot required utmost secrecy." He paused, and tested his handwraps. "And I think whoever did this has enough money that they don't have to think twice about hiring scriveners for a dozen programmed warriors."

  He's pretty close. It's more accurate that they stand to make enough money from this plot that this investment is cost-effective. Also, that if they hired a dozen scriveners, these assassins would have come at us weeks ago, right after our birthday party. This is the work of one scrivener working for three months.

  Father sighed. "The horses are dead or fled. Everyone else is gone. if we walk in the dark, we may find more assassins. We rest here, until daylight. You three inside with the doors shut tight, I'll stand guard outside."

  "You're their target," Nathan pointed out. "And by rights, it is the job of vassals to defend their liege against attacks. You are duke, and by courtesy my sister and I are earls. Vassals."

  "You want to stand guard overnight?" the duke asked, glancing at us.

  We both nodded.

  He considered. "You're good kids. If there's trouble, you yell, and you run. No more heroics. We only fight if it's a last stand, if one of our own cannot be moved."

  I blushed. "Yes Father."

  Five minutes later, Nathan and I were walking a wide loop around the area. Father was hauling the dead guards together on the side of the road, while we patrolled to make sure the were no more surprises. The dark wrapped us, and we were shaking off the stress of combat. Nathan's hand closed over my elbow, and he pulled me to a stop, out of earshot from our parents.

  "You knew already, didn't you?" he asked. His voice was soft, his eyes were hurting.

  "You knew this was coming," he said. It was dark but not dark enough. Our eyes were adjusting, and he could see my face. He watched me twist on guilt like a worm on a hook.

  "I can't-" I started.

  He pulled me into a hug. "I know, Natalie. I've known for a long time that you're holding secrets you don't want." He stepped back, arm's length, hands cupping my shoulders. "But I thought you didn't want to discuss school, or politics, or our friends. I didn't think you were holding onto something like this. Something that was a danger to us! Wasn't there any way to warn us or prepare?"

  "I didn't know it was tonight," I said.

  "But you knew we would be in danger?" he pressed. "I'm not- I'm not mad that you didn't warn us. I'm sad that you had to keep this to yourself. This is a terrible thing to have to hold, alone."

  I nodded.

  He paused, staring. "But it's not all right now. You're not relieved that it's over." I froze. He held my eyes. "There's more. Why wouldn't you- wait. Sorry, I'm emotional. Let me try a better question. Is there a tangible reason that you cannot speak about these matters? A threat, a price?"

  I shook my head, miserable. "Not like that. There's no demon with a contract, no goddess who will punish me for speaking out. But- the future? I only know what happens without me. I've seen a world that did not include me. So, I only know what happens if I'm not here to change it. If I do something that derails the future, if I change the course... I'm in uncharted waters. I'll be improvising just like everyone else."

  He laughed at that. "Oh no. Just like the rest of us."

  "It's not funny," I insisted. I sounded childish. I hated that. "As long as I don't say the wrong things or do anything too big, the future stays the way I've seen it."

  He pulled me into another quick hug. "But is it a future you want so badly? You'd give up the chance to make a better one?"

  I held him back. Squeezed. "It's not like that."

  "What is it like?"

  I was miserable. What a shitty time to have this conversation. "It's a matter of timing, Nathan. If I keep the future I know, I can pick exactly the right time and place to change things. If I move too early, then I may not see my best chance when it arrives."

  "The bird in the hand," he said.

  "What?"

  "That expression that you made up. About how the things that you have are worth more than the things you might get. Right now, you've got knowledge. And you can trade that for an opportunity, but only once. You need something twice as valuable as knowledge of the future before you're willing to change what lies ahead."

  "Sort of," I allowed. A night creature rustled, and we both jumped. "We should patrol," I said. I glanced at the carriage: Father was done pulling the fallen away from the wheel ruts. I took his hand and we started walking.

  He let it be silent for a minute. "Natalie?"

  "Yes?"

  "Our family is in danger. Are we the bird in the hand?"

  I bit my lip. "The more I talk about this, the weaker my position becomes," I told him.

  "Does it?" he said. "Is this something you understand, or something you're guessing at?"

  I did not say anything. If I lied to him he would know, and so he would know the truth. And if I told him the truth, he would know that he could talk me out of doing things my way. Because I did not know. I was working with guesses. I was just doing my best.

  Right now, I was pretty sure that everything was on a strict script. I could talk to people, makes some moves. I figured I was pretty safe from the butterfly effect, for the next five years. Until the game starts. I think that the game will force everything into the proper shape so that we can have the perfect first day of Academy. I am confident, because we're in a video game, or at least an entire world that works like a video game.

  Status.

  [ Natalie Harigold ] [ Level 1 Sorceress ] [ Rival ]

  Good. There's still a head's-up display. I can still see my game statistics. I still know that game designers are in charge of this world. In five years, branching paths begin. Right now, this is all backstory, it's set in stone. Unless I do something too big, something the script can't recover from. Something like telling him the truth.

  And I can't explain to him why this is. Why I'm so certain. No fucking way am I going to tell my twin brother that he's a video game character. Not even real. That his first-draft concept art had him wearing a coronet at all times.

  "It's really bad, isn't it?" Nathan said. "The future. The one you're trying to stop."

  "Avert," I said. My voice felt flat, toneless. "The future doesn't stop. But you can avert particular outcomes."

  "If you're trying to change the topic with a semantic argument it must be pretty bad, huh?" he said, smiling, nudging me, trying to make a joke of it. I couldn't laugh. He let himself get serious again. "Okay, let's break this down in steps. There's a future to avert. It's big, and it outweighs even immediate danger to yourself and all of us. You believe, strongly, that if you don't change the future until the right moment, that you can avert this big bad future. Okay, each of these steps makes sense, separately and together. Here's the part that doesn't follow: you think that telling me, or any of us, would make that change."

  "But, it has to," I said. "Knowing the future changes the future."

  He flicked my ear, and I flinched. He looked almost angry. "You're smarter than that! You've always been smarter than that! If knowing the future necessarily changes the future, then you've already changed it by knowing it. That's easy. So, what you mean is that acting on knowledge of the future changes it. And that's a step to stumble on. You've already assumed that if you tell me anything at all, that I'm going to act on it the wrong way!"

  I was getting angry too. "What would you do? Should I make a list? Fifteenth of the month: make sure you're at the intersection of Third Street and Circle Drive, order the chicken sandwich. Seventeenth of the month: don't attend the wedding, sell your horse? Would you have me just tell you, just write down, everything you need to do to keep the future correct?" This was not an example I had pulled out of thin air. I had considered doing this. After ten years, I was not sure I remembered every step to getting the good ending on the spy run, so I had some cribbed notes hidden away. After ten years in another world, your first life starts to feel very far away, and details start to get fuzzy.

  "Why not?" he said. "If you know the right steps, show me! This isn't a path you have to walk without me!"

  It felt like I was being squeezed inside. My chest, my throat, my voice, my eyes... a thud of my heart, a tremble of my lips, a burn in my eyes. I blinked hard, this was not the time to cry. "I can't do that," I said to him. "If I don't tell you anything, then every step you make is going to be correct. Because you are yourself. If I tell you, then you're stuck on my path. Watching ahead of you and behind you. Making sure you're inside the guidelines. If I keep my secrets, you live your life the way you're meant to. If I say what I've seen, then you're just following my instructions."

  "And that's so bad?" he sounded confused now. Really confused.

  Of course it is. I was a comet, Nathan. I was sent to this world to steal your life from you. I was chosen to take your will away and lock you to my path. And I refused then. I would have rather died than take you away from who you're supposed to be. And I still would. You're not losing your freedom on my account.

  We peered into the brush to make sure that there was no further sign of trouble. We walked a slow loop around the carriage, walking in silence.

  "If what you want, really want," he said, quietly, "is for me to live my life like nothing was changed... why are you still here?"