Bearing an Hourglass (45 page)

“All the same, I would like to call you friend.”

“Friend,” she agreed. “I do not have many of those among your kind. I understand you will do me a favor.”

“Favor?”

“In the third act. Saving me from destruction by the spaceman. My briefing suggests something of the sort.”

“Oh. Yes,” Norton agreed awkwardly, remembering how he had talked Dursten into adopting the orphan. But he also remembered the cause of the Bemme’s orphaning and winced. It was all a play, yet … “I wish I could take you away from this.”

“You do have that power, Chronos. But that would be pointless, for my service to you is finished from your perspective, and, if I departed this frame, who would take care of Dursten? When the occasion is appropriate, I will depart of my own accord.”

She made uncompromising sense. “Good-bye, then, friend,” he said sadly, shaking her tentacle.

He turned to Dursten. “Bat, I have found the way back to my planet of Earth. I thank you for risking your gallant life to help me, and wish you every success here.”

“Shux, ’tweren’t nothing,” the spaceman said, abashed in his handsome, rough-hewn, manly way. His eyes flicked toward the woman. “You ain’t coming back?”

In a sense he was, since his space scene was in Dursten’s future. But that wasn’t the essence. “I’m not coming back,” Norton agreed. “I’m trusting you to keep an eye on Excelsia.”

“Shore will!” Dursten said enthusiastically.

Norton turned to the Alicorn. “Thank you for carrying me those two times,” he said. “Without that help, I couldn’t have made it through.”

The Alicorn snorted, swished his tail, and fluttered his wings, embarrassed. Then he nuzzled Norton’s ear with his velvety-soft nose.
Trot well, good man!

Now it was Excelsia’s turn. Norton took her in his arms and kissed her. She was a bit like Heaven itself, though her destiny lay closer to Hell; but, as with Orlene and Agleh, he knew he could not continue with her.

The Damsel smiled through her tears as they separated. That was all; she understood.

Then he turned and walked along the wall until he came to the edge of the prop. He circled it and found himself in a motion-picture studio, with cameras, workmen, a director, and a general atmosphere of rushed chaos.

An attractive, mature woman approached him. “You were a fine star, Chronos,” she said. “I am only sorry the play did not reach its climactic scene.”

“The confrontation with—?”

“The Eviler Sorceress,” she said. “Yours Truly. I was to seduce you and strip you of your magic ring so you could not escape my clutches. I’m not sure the latter would have been successful, but the former would have been intriguing.”

Indeed it might have been, for she had a figure very like his Hourglass and was obviously an experienced star. “Better luck with the next leading man,” he said.

“It’s hardly luck,” she breathed. “It’s magic.”

He moved on past the personnel and props, finding the exit. When he left the building, he turned back to read the sign above it: SATANIC STUDIOS. Yes, that was what he had thought.

This was Hollywood, of course, where Satan could field excellent actors and facilities and be able to operate freely without interference. Probably there were some pretty good motion pictures released under the Satanic imprint, for he was certainly adept at invention. It had been quite an experience, and the Father of Lies’ expertise
was impressive, but now Norton had broken free of the deception and would be able to balk whatever plot the Prince of Evil had brewing.

He turned the sand of the Hourglass yellow and traveled spatially to his mansion in Purgatory. What a relief to be home!

But he couldn’t rest yet; he had to find out what the Father of Lies was up to, which made the absence of Chronos so important. “Summon Lachesis,” he told the butler. “I’d like to talk to her at her earliest convenience.” He noted that the mansion clock showed him to be back at the time he had started the third antimatter adventure; the three-person limitation had prevented him from living those hours a third time and slid him smoothly past them.

“Immediately, sir,” the butler said.

Indeed, a spider was swinging down along a thread when he entered the sitting room. She expanded and formed into Lachesis as Norton sat in his easy chair. “Something special on your mind, Chronos?” she asked.

“I’ve been away a few hours,” he told her. “I understand Satan is planning something, and I hurried back to balk his mischief. Do you know what it is?”

She glanced at him with evident perplexity. “Why should Satan do anything to disturb the status quo?”

“Are you teasing me? He wants to win political power on Earth!”

“But he already has the inside track on that. All he needs to do is wait.”

“He
has
it? When did he get it?”

“Sometimes it is difficult for me to untangle my skein enough to isolate significant threads. But the key is political. In about two years there will be a crucial vote in Congress—and though it will be close, it seems Satan has the votes to prevail. From then on, things will go his way, and there is nothing we can do that won’t simply make the situation worse. Satan knows that, which is why he isn’t worried.”

“But what about Luna?
She
won’t support him, and—”

“Who?”

“Luna. Senator Kaftan. Thanatos’ woman.”

“Oh, her. I had forgotten her name. Yes, that woman does keep company with Thanatos, but she’s no Senator. She runs a magic shop in Kilvarough.”

Norton stared at her. “Not a Senator?”

“Never was. Never held any political office at all. Are you sure you have the right name?”

Norton realized that something was seriously amiss. “I must have misremembered. I’m sorry I bothered you for nothing.”

She smiled and became Clotho, in a revealing gown. “You don’t need to use a pretext, Chronos. I understand your situation.”

Oops. “This time it was an honest confusion. Let’s postpone it for a few hours. I have an errand of business I must attend to first.”

“Business before pleasure,” she agreed. “I have a backlog of my own, and no excuse now not to get to it.” She shifted back to arachnid form, ascended her thread, and vanished.

Luna not a Senator! Satan must have struck—but how could he have done this without the aid of Chronos?

He traveled to Kilvarough and knocked on Luna’s door. The two griffins ignored him; it seemed he would be here often enough in his future, so they knew him.

Luna was home, and looked pretty much as he remembered her. “Why, welcome, Chronos!” she exclaimed. “Thanatos isn’t here at the moment—”

“I don’t want to intrude, but I must verify something—”

“By all means. Come in.”

Inside, he asked her point-blank: “When did you leave political office?”

Her brow furrowed. “I never held political office, Chronos. You know that.”

“You forget I live backward, when not deliberately phasing in to your frame, as now.” He indicated the green sand. “I do not know your past.”

She considered. “Well, I did run for office eighteen years ago. But a tremendous campaign of vilification was waged against me, so that I lost, and I have never cared to repeat the experience. That was my closest approach to office.”

Eighteen years ago! “Luna, I know this will sound strange to you, but not long ago I knew you as a Senator destined to balk Satan’s major ploy for political power on Earth. Can you believe that?”

“Naturally,” she said. “See, the Truthstones support you.” She gestured at small gems on the mantel, which were glowing pleasantly. “But I assure you, this is not
my
reality.”

“Reality seems to have changed,” he said. “Satan must have done it. If only I could figure out how!”

“Satan was surely behind the campaign against me,” she agreed. “But that was so long ago, and he has ignored me since.”

“He must have sent another minion back in time to set things up. But
how
, without my cooperation?”

“You mean that if he had not done so, I might have won that election and commenced a political career?”

“I mean exactly that! You would today be a prominent Senator. And somehow I must restore that career to you, for the sake of humanity! But first I must figure out how he did it. Then I can act to cancel his ploy.”

Luna went to a cupboard and fetched another stone. “Perhaps I can help. This is an evil-detector, very sensitive to the presence of the artifacts of Satan.” She brought it near him, and it flickered. “There has been evil near you recently, or it will be near you soon, but it is not present now.”

“I was in Satan’s environment in your near future—”

“No, this is a specific thing you carried with you, close to your body.” She moved the stone. It flickered more brightly near his folded Hourglass.

He opened out the Hourglass again so she could inspect it—and the stone flickered more brightly yet. “There was a demon associated with this,” she said. “Or will be. It seems to have hidden in the base for a while.”

The illusion of color change—a demon had been there, doing it! Naturally Satan had not been able to follow him on his tour of eternity; Norton had to have carried a minion there. And he had never noticed! “It—must have had a spell of invisibility,” he said, appalled. “So that I took it whenever I went—and I went the full length of time itself!”

“That would seem to cover the situation,” she agreed. “Satan’s demons can be very small, like pinheads. There could have been a dozen or a hundred here—and some dropped off at a selected spot in prior time, while others remained to preserve the spell.”

“That must have been it,” he acknowledged ruefully. “I finally abolished the spell in the farthest future—but I did travel backward in time first. Satan tricked me again!”

“He is the master of guile,” she pointed out.

“So he managed to drop at least one demon off to give the demons of that time the word—they do cooperate with one another—and they destroyed your chance to get elected. I’ll have to go back and intercept—”

“There could have been a dozen demons dropped off there,” she reminded him gently. “If you have intercepted one of Satan’s minions before and neutralized it, I’m sure he would be more careful on his next attempt. You could never intercept them all—not with the three-person limit. Some would get through.”

“You’re probably right,” he said glumly. “But I can’t just let him win!”

“Perhaps Thanatos can advise you better than I can,” she suggested. “Or one of the other Incarnations. Lachesis is wise in the ways of—”

“I’ve already talked to her. The other Incarnations have been affected by the new reality; only I am aware of the change.”

“And Satan,” she said. “He surely knows the nature of his mischief.”

“Yes. He surely does, damn him!”

“Have you talked to Mars?”

“Mars, the Incarnation of War? No, I haven’t met him.”

“It occurs to me we are at war—and war is what Mars best understands.”

Norton smiled grimly. “Good point, Luna. I will seek him out. Only—” He hesitated. “I don’t know how.”

She smiled. “Here is a stone attuned to him. It will glow as you approach, and fade as you move away from him. Take it and use it, Chronos.”

He accepted the stone. “You are a very helpful woman, Luna.”

Again she smiled, and the moonstone she wore at her neck glowed. “So Thanatos informs me.” She was about Norton’s own age or a little older, beyond the joy of youth, but her features were finely structured and she was a handsome person with excellent poise. She credited her magic stones with providing her an understanding of his situation, an understanding no other person in this reality would have had, but it was more than that. She was a woman of special qualities, experience, and tact. The sort of woman that he, Norton, would have liked to build a relationship with—that perhaps Orlene would have become at this age. The sort that he, Norton, could never have a continuing relationship with.

Once again he felt the burden of his office. How little he had understood the subtle sacrifice of Incarnation! But he could not afford self-pity at the moment; he had a job to do. “Thank you, Luna; I hope Mars can help.”

He walked in a circle, watching the stone. When he had determined the direction of brightest glow, he turned the sand yellow. “Farewell!”

She waved, and he was off. He zoomed across the face of the Earth, through buildings and mountains as if they were illusions, becoming more skilled in spatial motion, zeroing in on the Incarnation of War.

He found Mars on a battlefield in mountainous terrain somewhere on the Eurasian continent. Norton hadn’t kept track of the landmarks, and the location really didn’t matter; he just wanted to talk to the Incarnation.

Tanks were charging a mountain retreat that seemed to be guarded by Oriental dragons. Science against magic—and
the two were surprisingly similar. The dragons spurted fire—but so did the flamethrowers of the tanks. There were airplanes, too—but flying dragons were meeting them. The sides seemed even.

Mars was perched on a ledge, watching with detached interest. He was a small man, dressed in faded fatigues. Norton was surprised; he had somehow anticipated a robust giant in Roman-style armor.

Norton phased in beside Mars. “If you have a moment—”

The man looked around. “Oh, hello, Chronos. I always have a moment for you, you know that. What’s up?”

“Um, from my view, this is our first meeting.”

“Oh, sure, you live backward. I didn’t realize this was your beginning.” He put out his right hand, and Norton took it. “I’m Mars, Incarnation of War. You’re Chronos, Incarnation of Time. We have a long and benevolent association, with mutual respect, ever since you helped this stutterer get started.”

Stutterer? Mars wasn’t stuttering now! “I—”

“I don’t suppose you want to hear my rationale for war as a necessary cauterization of society and stimulus to progress, so I’ll spare you that this time. If you’re ill at ease, don’t be; we’re old friends.”

“That’s nice to know,” Norton said awkwardly. “I really haven’t gotten the whole hang of living backward yet, though at least the other Incarnations seem to understand.”