Outlander Novella [01] The Space Between by Diana Gabaldon

echo, and found it. He’d brought a trowel in his bag, and it was the work of a few moments to uncover the sheet of tin that covered his cache.
    The cache itself was three feet deep and three feet square—he found satisfaction in the knowledge of its perfect cubicity whenever he saw it; any alchemist was by profession a numerologist, as well. It was half full, the contents wrapped in burlap or canvas, not things he wanted to carry openly through the streets. It took some prodding and unwrapping to find the pieces he wanted. Madame Fabienne had driven a hard bargain but a fair one: two hundred
ècus
a month times four months for the guaranteed exclusive use of Madeleine’s services.
    Four months would surely be enough, he thought, feeling a rounded shape through itswrappings. In fact, he thought one night would be enough, but his man’s pride was restrained by a scientist’s prudence. And even if … there was always some chance of early miscarriage; he wanted to be sure of the child before he undertook any more personal experiments with the space between times. If he knew that something of himself—someone with his peculiar abilities—might be left, just in case
this
time …
    He could feel
it
there, somewhere in the smothered dark behind him. He knew he couldn’t hear it now; it was silent, save on the days of solstice and equinox or when you actually walked into it … but he felt the sound of it in his bones, and it made his hands tremble on the wrappings.
    The gleam of silver, of gold. He chose two gold snuffboxes, a filigreed necklace, and—with some hesitation—a small silver salver. Why did the void not affect metal? he wondered for the thousandth time. In fact, carrying gold or silver eased the passage—or at least he thought so. Mélisande had told him it did. But jewels were always destroyed by the passage, though they gave the most control and protection.
    That made some sense; everyone knew that gemstones had a specific vibration that corresponded to the heavenly spheres, and the spheres themselves of course affected the earth:
As above, so below
. He still had no idea exactly
how
the vibrations should affect the space, the portal … 
it
. But thinking about it gave him a need to touch them, to reassure himself, and he moved wrapped bundles out of the way, digging down to the left-hand corner of the wood-lined cache, where pressing on a particular nailhead caused one of the boards to loosen and turn sideways, rotating smoothly on spindles. He reached into the dark space thus revealed and found the small washleather bag, feeling his sense of unease dissipate at once when he touched it.
    He opened it and poured the contents into his palm, glittering and sparking in the dark hollow of his hand. Red and blues and greens, the brilliant white of diamonds, the lavender and violet of amethyst, and the golden glow of topaz and citrine. Enough?
    Enough to travel back, certainly. Enough to steer himself with some accuracy, to choose how far he went. But enough to go forward?
    He weighed the glittering handful for a moment, then poured them carefully back. Not yet. But he had time to find more; he wasn’t going anywhere for at least four months. Not until he was sure that Madeleine was well and truly with child.
    * * *
    “Joan.” Michael put his hand on her arm, keeping her from leaping out of the carriage. “Ye’re
sure
, now? I mean, if ye didna feel quite ready, ye’re welcome to stay at my house until—”
    “I’m ready.” She didn’t look at him, and her face was pale as a slab of lard. “Let me go, please.”
    He reluctantly let go of her arm but insisted upon getting down with her and ringing the bell at the gate, stating their business to the portress. All the time, though, he could feel her shaking, quivering like a blancmange. Was it fear, though, or just understandable nerves? He’d feel a bit cattywampus himself, he thought with sympathy, were he making such a shift, beginning a new