Bearing an Hourglass (29 page)

“First we must discover what the damage is,” Thanatos said. “Perhaps this is merely a diversion.”

“It’s oddly minor,” Atropos said, still peering in perplexity at her threads. “Nothing significant, really. No one was killed, harmed, or even frightened.”

“Keep looking,” Luna said. “Satan is devious, but we can be sure he knows how to score.”

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand,” Norton said. “If the demon did something to change the future—our present—why isn’t it finished now? And if it isn’t, why can’t I simply go back to fix it? If Atropos can just pinpoint the moment—”

“It’s the three-person limit,” Atropos said, still tracing her threads. “An aspect of the paradox resistance.” She glanced up to spy Norton’s look of bafflement. “Thanatos, you understand it, don’t you? Explain it to him, for Chronos certainly has the need to know.”

Both Thanatos and Luna chuckled. “Indeed, he explained it to me many years ago, when I was new in office,” Thanatos said. He opened his cloak and removed it; with that action, he became a completely ordinary young man, the one called Zane. Twenty years had not aged him at all; evidently Incarnations did not age the way normal people did. That aligned with Norton’s observation of the prior Chronos: it had been an adult man, not a newborn baby, who brought the Hourglass. So he himself would probably remain his present physiological age until his term expired. “Chronos was kind to me,” Zane continued. “Now I shall be kind to him at
his
commencement.” And he settled down and explained it so that Norton could understand.

The reason no change had occurred in the present was that it had not yet occurred in the past. Whatever the demon of Satan had done was quiescent, evoking no change in the life of any human being. But that was merely a delayed implementation, a literal time bomb that would in due course have its effect on human events. The moment it did, the future from that point on would change, in whatever manner the initial alteration determined. That would surely include Luna; if she were not eliminated as a person, she would certainly be nullified as a force to balk Satan. So they had to locate and nullify that change before it touched the human fabric; only in that manner could they be assured of success.

“But how long—?” Norton asked.

“Atropos is trying to determine that,” Thanatos said. “She can trace living threads readily, but inanimate threads are more devious. It could be five more minutes—or five more years.”

Norton felt another chill. Time bomb indeed! “Maybe I can go back and destroy the demon before it escapes. It was in my possession, after all.”

Thanatos shook his head. “You can not. That is the other aspect of Satan’s mischief. The three-person limit prevents you.” And he explained about that.

Chronos was the only entity who could travel in time
and he was largely immune from paradox—but there were limits. His easiest way was simply to proceed along his natural life course, backward to the date of his birth. It required magical effort to reverse his direction and match that of ordinary people, as he was doing now, more effort to travel through historical time, and more yet to take physical form and act in such a time. But the magic of the Hourglass made it possible, and he could indeed change reality by changing the past. But in such cases, he was there in two persons—himself in his original, normal life, and himself in his return as Chronos. Doubling himself was in his power; it had to be, for him to use his power effectively. But tripling himself was another matter; then he was making a third appearance at a given time, interfering with himself as Chronos, and the potential for paradox magnified exponentially.

No one could interfere with an Incarnation with impunity—not even if that Incarnation was himself. That strained the power of the Hourglass, for it was itself being doubled and was opposing itself. It was theoretically possible for this to occur, but so awkward that it was hardly worthwhile to try. If he did try, most likely he would bounce off and land in a time when there was no duplication, possibly doing incidental mischief in the process. In short, the risks were probably greater than the likely benefits; mischief in time was the most awkward to undo—because of the three-person limit. Chronos could do damage that Chronos could not correct.

“And Satan knew that!” Norton exclaimed. “He knew I could not change my mind once I changed the past—even if it was inadvertent.”

“True,” Thanatos agreed. “Had you taken the demon to the Mess o’ Pottage shop, you would have nullified the best efforts of Atropos and myself, for in such interactions Chronos is more powerful than Thanatos. The rest of us can double only by your action—and we can be rendered nonexistent by your action, too. Only God and Satan, the true Eternals, are exempt from that.”

Something about this explanation bothered Norton, but
he was not able to pin it down. “Then there is no way to stop what Satan’s minion has done?” he asked. “If I can’t return to stop the demon—”

“There should be a way,” Luna said. “Satan’s minions do not endure long apart from him. That demon must have done its deed and expired. If we can identify what he did and nullify it before it impinges on human events, then the victory will be ours. We probably have time, because Satan sought to distract you; he would not have bothered, had the deed been truly irrevocable.”

“It was some distraction!” Norton admitted ruefully. “He said he was showing me the nature of his bribe to encourage me to take his minion to the Mess o’ Pottage. All the time he knew this was pointless or impossible. He was certainly angry when he learned I’d destroyed the horn, though; he must have thought the mission had been a complete failure.”

“We were lucky,” Luna said. “We could have been lost before we had a chance to fight back. But that secondary mission can still destroy us. How is it coming, Atropos?”

“I have almost pinpointed the time and place,” Atropos said. “But not the deed. I only know that when it manifests, it will give Satan the victory. My threads have tension on them that threatens haywire shifting. I need to comprehend it further.”

Norton’s mind had been running back over his recent experiences with Satan. The globular cluster, the Magic-Lantern Cloud, and his adventures there—suddenly the thing that had bothered him came clear. He had doubled himself in those adventures, rescuing himself from the Bem and saving Excelsia from the Alicorn. It had been not only possible but easy. How, then, could the three-person limit be such a formidable force? Did it exist at all?

“Gaea,” Luna said.

“I will take Atropos to her,” Thanatos said, rising and resuming his cloak.

“Take us all,” Luna said. “Chronos must meet her, too.”

“Gaea—another Incarnation?” Norton asked. It seemed to him he had heard that name before; Gawain the Ghost had said—

“The Green Mother,” Luna explained. “Nature.”

Yes, that was it; Gaea had changed the baby for Gawain and thereby had caused terrible mischief. The memory of that banished Norton’s three-person speculation from his attention; he wanted to meet this powerful yet fallible entity.

The four of them walked out to the estate parking lot, paced by the guardian griffins. They were certainly beautiful animals! Beside the parking lot there was a small, verdant pasture. A handsome stallion of pale hue grazed there.

“Mortis,” Thanatos called.

The pale horse perked up his ears and trotted over. He was a truly splendid animal, with a sleek hide and firm muscles; had he had wings and a horn, he could have passed for another Alicorn. This was, Norton remembered, the Deathhorse—the steed who carried Thanatos to his appointments.

“We need transportation for four—to the Green Mother,” Thanatos said to the horse.

Mortis stepped onto the pavement—and shifted into the form of a pale limousine. Norton gaped. “That—but that’s a machine!” he protested.

Thanatos drew his cloak about him more tightly; as the hood closed, the skull-face manifested with its gruesome grin. “Mortis is an excellent steed—but perhaps no more remarkable than your little ring.” He opened a door for the ladies.

Squeeze. Sning liked that comparison. He was another creature who converted from living to dead, or vice versa.

Norton walked around the car, noting that the tag in back said, MORTIS. And he had thought the Alicorn was remarkable! When magic and science were one, such miracles were commonplace. He opened a door and climbed in.

He found himself in the back seat beside Clotho. She
shrugged at his startled glance. “I want to be presentable for Ge,” she explained.

Of course. Fate changed bodies the way others changed clothes. This made it seem like a double date, for Thanatos and Luna were companions, while he and Clotho—well, what did it matter? His old existence as a mortal was behind him.

The car started smoothly, driving itself. It turned about—and abruptly it was zooming through space and matter. The world was rushing past in a smear of color. Then this slowed, and they were driving into the gate of a truly sumptuous estate with luxuriant trees of many varieties and a sparkling lake. It was the kind of place that could charge tourists for visits.

A huge shape loomed in the sky ahead. Norton peered through the windshield. “That—that’s a—”

“A roc,” Luna said calmly. “The largest of birds. Ge has made her estate into a preserve for rare and magical creatures. It’s hard to imagine how she salvaged the rocs.”

The roc swooped toward them, its wings seeming to span the whole horizon. It pounced on the car, its monstrous talons poking into the windows and vents, and picked up the vehicle together with its occupants as if this were no more than a mouse. In moments they were dangling high in the air.

One talon was near Norton’s face, projecting from the top of the window to the ceiling of the car. The talon was like fine blue steel, an inch in diameter at the window and tapering to a needle point. What a bird!

Luna turned to Thanatos, unruffled. “Ge is testing us,” she remarked. “Perhaps you had better perform a token, just to reassure her.”

“Gently,” Clotho cautioned him. “We are fairly high at the moment.”

“Gently,” Thanatos agreed. He reached up and touched a talon with a skeletal finger.

The bird shuddered—and so did the car. The roc had felt the touch of Death, and that was a touch no creature ignored. The roc spiraled down to the ground and set the car gently back on the road. Then it hastily departed.

Norton realized why caution had been advisable. Thanatos could have stunned or killed the big bird—but that would have led to a crash landing. So he had merely given warning—and the roc, recognizing a power more sinister than its own, had yielded.

But a new problem loomed. A cloud formed, and rain slanted down from it, turning rapidly to sleet and then snow. From the right puffed smoke and steam; then a vent opened and molten rock poured out. The lava was not moving rapidly, but it was hideously hot; the vegetation it touched burst instantly into flame. The snow, on the other side, was already piling so deep that the car could not plow through it.

Clotho shook her head. “Ge.” She sighed as if addressing a naughty child. “Mortis, follow my thread.” She flicked a finger, and a thread flew out, passing through the windshield without touching it and extending in front of the car, glowing.

Mortis followed it. The thread wound through the slush melted by the lava, left the road, traveled along a ridge that held the lava temporarily at bay, and went across a narrow channel that concentrated the lava. The car speeded up to hurdle the ditch, then slued about to follow the curving thread toward the main mass of lava. This seemed hazardous indeed to Norton, particularly since the traction was treacherous and the visibility almost nil, but the thread of Fate knew exactly where to go. That, of course, was part of Fate’s business—to know the intricacies of man’s interaction with Nature. They threaded their way successfully between snow and lava, sometimes with each close enough to touch on either side from a window, sometimes pausing, then scooting forward, avoiding a minor avalanche, and emerged onto a firm, dry road. Fate had foiled Nature.

Then Norton experienced an urgent need to relieve himself. His gut knotted and his bladder swelled. “Uh, if we could stop a moment …” he said.

Luna fidgeted. “Ge again; we all feel it. No way to avoid it, and stopping won’t relieve it. It’s her specialty for intruders: instant flu.” Her cheek seemed greenish.

Indeed, now Norton’s stomach roiled. Beside him, Clotho looked seasick, and Thanatos seemed about as sick as a skeleton could be.

Clotho turned to him. “Your turn, Chronos.”

Oh. Norton lifted the Hourglass, turned the sand blue, and willed the immediate region to be included in a short hop. There was a small jump, and the discomfort abated.

He had brought the car and occupants five minutes into the past, which was his future, before the illness commenced.

Clotho took a deep breath. “Thank you, Chronos. A girl doesn’t like to look sick in public.” She brought out a small mirror and checked her young and pretty face.

He had not violated the three-person rule, since he had not duplicated himself. Well, perhaps he had, because he had been phased in to real-world time. The others and the car would be duplicated for five minutes, but by the time the other earful of them caught up to this spot on the road,
this
car would be gone, and so there should be no problem. The other earful would fade out, leaving this one.

Or could the other earful have been retroactively erased? That would avoid the three-person problem. There was still a lot he did not understand about his office.

Now the mansion of the Green Mother Nature was before them. It seemed to be formed of vegetation, its thick wood alive and leafy, with a streamlet flowing from level to level in the manner of a fountain. Animals peeped from crannies—bunnies, wrens, lizards, and perhaps an elf or two. This was indeed the handiwork of the Earth-Mother.

The car parked, they got out, and Mortis reconverted to equine form and set about grazing beside the mansion. Had they really been inside a horse all this time? Norton shook his head, filing the matter as another wonder to be pondered at leisure at such time as he was alone with a campfire. The four walked up to the entrance.