Read Online The Time Roads by Beth Bernobich - Free Book Online Page A

the empty fireplace, apparently absorbed in a book. As Doctor Loisg took his leave from Síomón, the man stood and approached.
    “Pardon me,” he said. “I’m told you might be Mr. Síomón Madóc.”
    He was a tall man, with a lean tanned face that certain women might call handsome. His eyes were warm and brown, his gaze direct. He wore a well-cut black frock coat and silk vest. Obviously an educated man, though his accent was hard to place. There were traces of shadows underneath his eyes, as though he had slept badly, and an air of tension beneath that polite expression.
    “I am Síomón Madóc,” Síomón said slowly. “But you have the advantage of me, sir.”
    The man smiled, one that vanished as soon as it arrived. “Perhaps I should start over. My name is Aidrean Ó Deághaidh. I’d like a few words with you, if I might.”
    He spoke politely enough, but there was something in his manner that told Síomón the question was a perfunctory one. “Concerning what?”
    Another of those ghostlike smiles made its appearance. “Let us talk outside, Mr. Madóc. There’s a park nearby, and a pathway along the Blackwater, if you would be so kind as to indulge me.”
    At once the clues shifted—Ó Deághaidh’s manner, the way his gaze absorbed every detail—and though the man had not mentioned any official title, Síomón knew why Ó Deághaidh had sought him out. He’s come about the murders.
    He studied Ó Deághaidh with greater wariness. “I’m happy to assist you in whatever way possible, but if you’ve come with questions about the cases from last spring, I’ve remembered nothing new.”
    “I didn’t say you had, Mr. Madóc. Please. Come with me.”
    Síomón consulted his watch. An hour until his next lecture remained. Unless this man Ó Deághaidh wanted more than a few answers—and Síomón had none to give—he could easily make the university grounds with time to spare. He nodded his agreement.
    They exited the foyer and set off along the sanitarium’s pathways, winding down the sloping lawn toward the gates below. Síomón had expected Ó Deághaidh to begin his questions at once, but Ó Deághaidh remained silent, glancing from side to side as they passed the masses of late-blooming lilies, their rich scent hanging heavy in the warm air. Though it was still early afternoon, the grounds were nearly empty, the lawns rolling in smooth emerald waves, with stands of ancient oaks here and there, and a thicker wall of shrubbery and trees that concealed the iron gates. From certain angles, Síomón could almost imagine himself at home at Gleanntara, up north in County Laingford. It was for that reason, as well as its reputable doctors, that he had chosen Aonach Sanitarium for Gwen’s confinement.
    “You are a man of impressive wealth,” Ó Deághaidh said.
    Recalled abruptly from his reverie, Síomón nearly stumbled. “And you are a man of abrupt turns, Mr. Ó Deághaidh. Or do you have a title I should use?”
    Ó Deághaidh shrugged. “My title is Commander Ó Deághaidh, if you prefer a more formal address,” he said. “And I apologize for trespassing into your private concerns.”
    “Of course,” Síomón said automatically. He felt an immediate spark of irritation, then, at himself and Ó Deághaidh both, and added, “But then, trespassing on private concerns is your trade, is it not?”
    It was a direct jab. Rude, even, but Ó Deághaidh seemed unperturbed by the comment. “It is, sadly. We come to our jobs with a natural curiosity about the world, and our work encourages it. You might say the same for you and your fellow students, no?”
    So the commander came well armed and ready to use his weapons. Síomón covered his reaction with a shrug of his own. “So they tell me. As the poet once said, ‘The tools of mathematics are a curious set—the eye, the hand, the pen, the brain. It is with these instruments, we cast our net. And bring to earth a flight of numbers fantastique