The
last dregs of the last bottle of wine (Hardacre and Gwyneth didn’t let them
drink too much) were being drunk and
everyone was tired and slightly dispirited. George’s memories had made them
realise not only the depth of their ignorance but also the degree to which they
had been kept in the dark about the real nature of the universe. They had seen
the blue flyer and heard John’s experiences in the Folds and it had made their
job, however they might define it, very much more difficult. John waited until
almost the end of the thirteenth hour to sum up. He was too tired to stand,
and, in any case, by this stage no-one expected anything definitive. Those who
stayed for the next day or two would have a more coherent and practical
discussion.
‘We now know that we are facing an alliance
between two of the main enemies of the commonweal: the CRS and the Cloaks. Our coalition
of north and west, one that was completely unplanned and unprepared, was able
to strike a tactical blow against our foes, but that has only bought us
time. Without Quiena’s foresight all
would have been lost and we cannot expect to be handed Dwarven Magic
contraptions every time that we are in need’
No-one spoke. John wasn’t sure whether this
was due to tiredness, inebriation or disquiet.
Only Gwyneth seemed fully alert, and she just nodded her grim
encouragement.
‘So, we must follow a number of leads. First,
we must continue to investigate what the CRS are doing in each of our local
areas. Second, we will monitor what is happening in Ortia through our contacts
there. Third, Laurence will go to Oikonde and try to talk to the Archon and try
to understand some more about the Outer Void and the Twin Worlds. He will also
attempt to establish who has been fiddling with the fabric of reality and what
he or she has done to it. If necessary, and if possible, he will track down the
culprit using the tupaia. Fourth, I will go and dig about in the university
library and talk to some of the academics. If they don’t know what’s going on
in Kingspit, then no-one will’
This time there were vague murmurs of
agreement. Stephen looked up at John with tired but twinkling eyes.
‘John – do you know if Macrocephalos still
teaches there?’ he asked
John considered
this. The name didn’t ring a bell.
‘I have no idea. I suppose there is no reason
why he shouldn’t. I’ll try to track him down, too, if I can’
Gwyneth stood up.
‘The time has come’ she pronounced, ‘The
thirteenth hour is nearly done and sleep is almost here. Is there anything else
who will keep us from our rest?’
A number of people started to gab all at once
until Gwyneth bid them to quieten. She pointed at Owen, randomly choosing one
of the loudest speakers.
‘We still need to fix that tear in John’s
house’ he pointed out
‘We?’ asked Gwyneth, titling her head
slightly.
‘Well, C and I…’ he paused, reddening
slightly, ‘I mean Celia and I’ he said, a little flustered
Celia jumped in.
‘Yes, just in case… blue flyers… you
know…better to work in pairs… that sort of thing’
Gwyneth turned away so that no-one would see
the sour look of triumph on her face. She wondered why even grown up,
sophisticated, people could end up being so entangled.
And if they were, why didn’t they just get on with the whole charade. She
turned back, covering up her movements with a cough.
‘Better to be careful. Of course’ she said,
and let the thread die. She refused to even glance at either Bronwyn or John –
she knew exactly the kind of disapproving looks that they would be sending
her. Instead, she gestured to Elizabeth
to speak.
‘I will ensure that the High Lord remains on
our side’ she said, ‘using whatever diplomatic levers are necessary’
Gwyneth made a similar sour face to the one
she had just made about Celia and Owen, but this time she made no attempt to
conceal it. Elizabeth was her closest colleague on the council and she felt no
compunction in temporarily offending her.
‘Yes, you’ll talk to Lady Anne – I think you
may have already mentioned that…’
She swung round to point at Kathleen. She was
going to let her speak, but then she thought better of it.
‘...and you’ll analyse that blue cloud
substance. Good – we await a report with interest’
The level of enthusiasm for any other
comments began to wane. Gwyneth had
decided that enough was enough.
‘I think I hear the thirteenth chime’ she
announced, a little too dramatically, ‘so, unless there is anything else
exceptionally pressing…’
Angharad looked up from the table and fixed
her deep brown eyes on Gwyneth. Much to everyone’s astonishment, Gwyneth’s
voice trailed off. Angharad picked up the object that she had been examining
for the whole day.
‘I have something to show you all’ she said,
‘Before we break up for the evening’
On the table in front of her was a clock; a
beautifully crafted small carriage clock cast in bronze. The hands were made of
some odd dark green substance and were as narrow and delicate as a daisy stem.
The longer hand pointed to eight and the shorter hand was two thirds of the way
between elven and twelve. These hands shimmered slightly: most of them
recognised the substance immediately.
‘It’s a Dwarven Magic clock’ said John, in
wonder, ‘and it’s very beautiful’
‘Where does it come from, Ang?’ asked Bronwyn
Angharad turned it slowly in her hands so
that they could all see it clearly.
Celia murmured, ‘oh look – another Dwarven
Magic contraption’, but only Owen heard her. They shared a guilty grin.
‘I’m
not sure’ replied Angharad, ‘it’s been in my workshop for a long time, but it
seemed to be completely broken. That’s why I hadn’t given it much attention – I
had lots of other things that seemed more worthy of my time’
She put the clock back on the table.
‘I do remember noting that it had stopped at
just after eleven though’ she continued, ‘just in passing’
She rotated the clock slowly so that they
could all see its face.
‘Then about six months ago, I came across the
clock when I was looking for something else, and I noticed that the hands had
moved – it was now showing fifteen minutes past eleven. I thought this was odd
because it had been in my pending cupboard throughout. No-one else ever goes in
there so there’s a negligible chance that I could have been tampered with.’
She waited until everyone had seen the front
of the clock. They were all transfixed by the green hands.
‘I put it on the side in the kitchen and I
kept half an eye on it. After about a week it was clear that it was moving. It
was very slow but it was definitely changing. And it carried on moving steadily
until about two months ago, when it stopped. What was odd about it was, when I
thought about it I realised exactly when it had stopped…’
‘…on the day that Whitecloak was destroyed?’
guessed John.
Angharad nodded. The group round the table
drew in their breath simultaneously, like a giant animal gasping in the still
night.
‘And that’s when I took its back off’
With expert hands she flipped the clock over
and found the catches that held the back plate in place. She pressed them in
and then slid the plate across. There were no internal workings. Instead there was
a green network of tiny threads, like the capillaries around a muscle. Except
here there was no flesh, nor even metal, but rather the threads fed into a small
blue sphere, which resembled a crystallised cloud.
‘That’s a piece of the Outer Void’ said Owen,
shivering, but this time not from the cold, ‘it has to be’
John and Celia murmured their agreement.
Angharad slid the plate back on the clock. There was a small click, which
sounded extraordinarily loud in the silent hall.
‘Yes, it is’ said Angharad, with a measuredly
steady voice, ‘and I think that the green roots are reading some property of
the sphere, and translating it into a time’
‘And so now it is twenty minutes before
twelve…’ said John
‘I have no idea how long it’s been counting
down the hours and minutes, but for a while it looked like they were running
out rapidly’ said Angharad
All eyes were glued on the hands of the
clock. Most wondered if they would ever be able to look away. Every green pulse seemed to push the minute
hand forwards, even though they knew that it had not actually moved at all.
Gwyneth forced herself to get up and walked
over to the clock. She picked picked up a napkin and threw it over the clock .
‘I think it’s very clear’ she said, softly,
‘that we really need to find out what will happen at midnight’
