Bearing an Hourglass (47 page)

Norton was glad he had made his decision of conscience before realizing that. It made him feel a little better about himself.

Of course, it would be better to have Orlene and the baby alive than tragically dead. Or would it? What kind of life would they have in a world dominated by Satan? The Prince of Evil had been proceeding carefully, not interfering unduly in the affairs of the world until he could consolidate his power. Evil had infinite patience! But once
the critical nexus passed and he was victorious, what then? Surely he would change everything to suit himself, and it would be literally Hell on Earth. Orlene would suffer that, and her baby, and everyone else. Evil would triumph everywhere, making all decent people miserable. No, Satan had offered no bargain at all!

If only it could be possible for every person in the world to see the future Satan offered—to remember his future as he remembered his past, and to appreciate how that future declined as Evil gained. That would shake things up and make Satan’s victory impossible. But that could not be done.

Or could it?

Norton brought out the Hourglass and contemplated its flowing white sand.
He
lived backward; the future was familiar to him, as far as it went. But the Hourglass could also affect others when he willed it to. It could transport others in time, or even cause the whole world to live backward for a few hours. Truly, it was the most potent of all magic instruments, as Mars had said. But could it make ordinary people see a future they had not yet experienced?

Squeeze.

“Sning!” he exclaimed. “I forgot you! How I need your advice now!” He realized that, though he had called others friends and loved a woman, Sning had been his truest companion throughout, the one who was best able to share his experience.

Squeeze.

“You say the Hourglass can make others see the future?”

Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

Um. He had to narrow down the circumstances. “It can, but it’s limited? Such as to—to the time I assumed the office, since I have no worldly power beyond then?”

Squeeze.

But that was only a few days. Not much good. He needed a decade or so. In fact, he needed eighteen years—the time since Satan had foiled Luna’s entry into political office.

Squeeze.

“We can do it—for eighteen years?” he asked excitedly.

Squeeze.

“I can go back to that time—just before she loses the election—and show the world what it is heading for?”

Squeeze.

But now he saw a serious flaw. The world had not become a horror in those eighteen years. The horror would not occur until Satan could assume power openly—and that was after (before) Norton’s assumption of office. He could not show the world that, and certainly Satan would not make his mischief known before then. The Father of Lies wanted complete order and peace until he was ready, just as a hunter wanted no disruption until the wild animal he stalked came within his sights. All Norton could show people was a fairly normal progression.

Squeeze.

“But that won’t work! Because there’s no horror.”

Squeeze, squeeze.

“It
will
work?”

Squeeze.

“You’re sure?”

Squeeze.

“Okay, Sning. Your information has always been good before. How do I do it? Do I turn the sand a new color?”

Squeeze.

“Which color? Purple? Gold? Plaid? Orange? Gray? Violet? Brown?”

Sning had not squeezed at any of the colors, but after brown he squeezed three times. Norton scratched his head. “None of those, but brown does have its points?”

Squeeze.

“But I’ve really guessed all the basic colors and several shades. You act as if no color or combination—”

Squeeze.

“No color? But you said—”

Squeeze.

“Ah—no color! Transparent. Clear.”

Squeeze.

“Representing the future, not for living but for seeing. Or remembering, the way I do. The veil of opacity made permeable.”

Squeeze.

“Well, let’s try it!” he said, excited.

He turned the sand to yellow and traveled in space to the spot on Earth where Sning indicated Luna would be found after the election. This was in the city of Kilvarough, at her estate.

“Her estate?” he asked, surprised.

Squeeze.

“Um, let me do one thing, then, before I get on it.” He turned the sand green and knocked on her door.

She answered immediately. Naturally she wasn’t away from home much, since she had no office to attend to. In the other reality she had been Senator, but had arranged to be home to meet him; Lachesis had surely facilitated that. Behind her, this time, stood Thanatos—and Mars, Atropos, and Gaea. “My stones informed me you were going to try,” she said. “We wish you success.”

He had thought he was about to inform her; obviously there had been no need. “You understand—if I succeed—you will no longer exist as you do now. You won’t even remember this life. None of you will.”

“We understand, Chronos,” Luna said. “Your power in this respect is greater than any other.” She took his hand, drew him forward, and kissed him on the cheek. She was not young, but she was a lovely woman.

Norton brought out the Hourglass. “Well, farewell, all,” he said awkwardly.

They merely waited expectantly. He was touched by their acceptance of this significant change that could abolish their past eighteen years of experience. Surely it was not easy!

He turned the sand blue and willed himself into the past.

Sning gave a warning squeeze as he neared the date and another as he came to the hour. Finally he settled on the minute and stopped, turning the sand green.

Luna stood there, Thanatos beside her. She was wiping her face, evidently repairing the damage wrought by tears. She was eighteen years younger than he had seen her a moment ago, about half her prior age, or at any rate in her early twenties, and stunningly beautiful despite her misery. Her dull brown hair was now bright chestnut, shoulder-length and luxurious, and her eyes were like windows on Heaven. She was breathtakingly slender and well formed, in a green gown reminiscent of her namesake, the luna moth, and her bright moonstone shone at her bosom. A jewel she wore—and a jewel she was, surely! She looked up, startled, as Norton manifested.

“Chronos! Certainly you don’t wish to share this unfortunate moment!”

“Not exactly,” Norton said.

“She is about to go out to make her concession speech,” Thanatos said.

“I—I would like to address the world first,” Norton said, conscious of how preposterous this sounded.

“You?” Surprise did not register well on the Deathhead. “This is not your concern, Chronos!”

“I’m afraid it
is
my concern,” Norton said. “I was inadvertently responsible for Luna’s loss. Now I must try to undo the damage.”

Thanatos shook his head. “Her reputation has been sullied beyond repair. The minions of Satan have used innuendo, outright lies—even ballot-box stuffing. Satan’s work—but the people were fooled, and now it’s over.”

“I beg your indulgence,” Norton said. “Let me try to undo what I can. If I fail, she can still concede.”

Luna put her hand on Thanatos’ shoulder. “See the Truthstones,” she murmured.

Indeed, the stones on the mantel were shining like little stars. “I yield,” Thanatos said.

They went outside to the front gate, beyond the range of the griffins. Television cameras and a magic mirror were set up there. The world was watching—or at least that minor portion of it that cared to tune in on this particular concession speech. Most people were probably more interested in Luna’s beauty than in her politics, anyway.

Luna stepped up to the focus of the media. In this year, mechanical microphones were still in use for sound pickup. “Before I speak, my friend Chronos will address you,” she said.

“Hey, what’s this?” a man protested, pushing forward. His eyes blazed with the inner fire of the possessed—an agent of Satan. “We came to hear the harlot drop out!”

Thanatos started forward in cold fury, but Norton moved first. He shoved the Hourglass in the possessed’s face. The man fell back, stunned.

“The minions of Satan have wronged this fine woman,” Norton said. “Now I will show you your future if this wrong stands.”

He turned the sand transparent and willed it into action, to embrace the whole world. He felt the immense power channeling through the Hourglass, the weakest force becoming the strongest. Nothing changed, physically; this was magic of the mind only.

There was a hush as the effect took hold. Then a cameraman lurched away, dropping his camera. “I’m gonna die!” he screamed. “Next year, covering a hostage crisis, bomb goes off—
I remember!
I’m getting out of here!”

A female reporter turned and slapped a news director. “You’re going to throw me over for that hussy!” she cried indignantly. “Well, you can just forget about tonight, you sneak!”

The director could not deny it, for he remembered, too. Indeed, he seemed preoccupied, seeing farther into his own future. “AIDS?” he said, bewildered and horrified. “Me? But I’m not part of that culture!”

“Evidently the hussy is,” the driver next to him said. “That stuff’s spreading fast, now that it’s out of the special groups. My uncle’s gonna get it, too, and die—” He broke off, horrified as he realized what he was saying.

“Leukemia?” a bystander asked, chagrined. “How can I remember having that, when it’s five years in the future? I’m going to do some research and change that before it happens!”

In moments the street was empty, as every person
attending the concession speech sought to avoid the horrors of his own future. Each person in the world was going to suffer tragedy and death sooner or later—and no person enjoyed the prospect. Everyone was trying to change his life to avoid the mischief he foresaw—and, of course, that changed his future and that of those he interacted with and gave him new visions of the inevitable. Humanity was in chaos.

Satan himself arrived. Most of his minions could not take solid form on Earth, but he himself was an Incarnation, as real as the others. “Give over, Chronos!” he cried, fire showing inside his mouth in lieu of a tongue. “I sought no quarrel with you!”

“Not this year,” Norton said. The sand remained clear. “But in a future year—”

“You are generating utter chaos!” the Prince of Evil protested, smoke rising from him.

Norton glanced up and down the street. “Am I?”

“It’s impossible for anyone to function in this!”

“Even you, Satan?” Norton inquired pleasantly. He was coming to understand the impact of his action. Satan’s ultimate evil did not need to be manifest within eighteen years; the ordinary lives, loves, and deaths of people sufficed. The sudden knowledge of the specific circumstance and time of his own misfortune or death drove the average person into a frenzy like that of a drowning man. The veil that shrouded the future was in fact a blessing, and now it had been rent.

“I am a Creature of order!” Satan said. “I have plans—”

Norton merely looked at him inquiringly.

“I can’t accomplish anything if they remember—”

Norton waited.

“What do you want, Chronos?” the Prince of Evil demanded.

“Need you ask, sirrah?”

Satan stomped about, his horns turning red with frustration and emitting sparks. “All right, Chronos! The bitch shall have her office!”

“The who?”

The sparks became larger, and a small zap of lightning flashed between Satan’s horns. “The good woman!”

Norton allowed the sand to return to its underlying green. Sometime he would have to explore the mechanism that enabled him to remain in the green while the sand turned clear, but there was no hurry; obviously there were sophistications of the Hourglass that would require careful study for full comprehension, but which protected him in his ignorance. “I trust you to honor your word, my dear associate,” he said.

“Your trust is misplaced, fool!” Satan said, gesturing.

Abruptly the two of them were in Hell. Opaque smoke surrounded them, obscuring the details, but there was no question about the location. “Now try your little trick,” Satan said grimly. “I’m sure My demons will enjoy seeing their futures.”

Norton lifted the Hourglass—but now the sand was fogged out by smoke, and he could not see the color. It wasn’t illusion; it was genuine smoke; he couldn’t abolish it by concentrating.

Satan couldn’t hold him, of course. The Prince of Evil was merely setting up another diversion, trying to salvage his campaign to win power on Earth. The three-person limit would prevent Norton from returning here; he had to accomplish his mission now.

Norton had had enough of this. He owed Satan.
Sning
, he thought.
Can you help me fix him once and for all?

Squeeze.

What color? Transparent?

Squeeze, squeeze.

“Did you really think you could oppose me, Chronos?” Satan asked, sneering. Sulfurous smoke was curling up from his nose.

Black?

Squeeze, squeeze.

Desperately he tried the color they hadn’t used before.
Brown?

“Enough of this,” Satan said. His arm shot forward,
his hand landing on Norton’s. There was a jolt of current—and Sning was in Satan’s grasp. “This rogue demon is Mine!”

Norton felt as if he had been skewered. He had lost his most vital adviser! Satan could not touch the Hourglass, but Sning had no such protection.

Norton willed the sand brown, the color of Luna’s hair, knowing the Hourglass would respond, though the smoke obscured it.

Satan paused, surprised. The smoke was curling down to his nose.

Norton was similarly surprised. What had he done?

Satan turned about abruptly. Flame shot into his mouth, and sparks zapped from the air to his horns. He lashed his tail. “?lleh eht tahW” he demanded.

He was living backward! But no one else was; the demons of Hell showed through the smoke now, glancing at their Master with curiosity. The brown sand reversed time for Satan alone.

The Father of Lies would break out of this predicament soon enough. That was not the point. Norton had shown Satan that Chronos could make him just as uncomfortable as he could make Chronos.