The End of Time (23 page)

Hap felt pressure build in his veins. He had the urge to scream out the window and curse at Doane. More than ever he wanted the power to see the filaments, to leap across time and distance.
I could fix this,
he thought.
A Meddler could do it. So why can’t I?

He remembered what Willy had told him, about why his powers eluded him.
Because you care,
Willy said. Meddlers weren’t supposed to care about other people. They were selfish, capricious beings who were concerned only with their fateful games. “How am I supposed to stop caring?” Hap asked aloud.

“What’s that?” Umber said, roused from his own dark thoughts.

Hap pushed himself away from the wall and grabbed the hair on both sides of his head. A thought had seized him; a memory from his short but eventful life. “You did something to me once,” he said.

Umber’s brow wrinkled. “I did?”

Hap rushed across the room and leaned on the desk, staring Umber in the eye. “Yes. When you tried to help me remember my life before this one!”

Umber’s head tilted. “That’s right. I . . . I hypnotized you. But it didn’t go well.”

Hap remembered too well how it felt when Umber pried into his mind, taking him back. When Hap had finally approached the memory of his own death, he’d been driven into a blind panic. “You have to do it again. But you won’t make me remember this time.”

Umber’s head wobbled. “I won’t?”

Hap thumped the desk with his fist. “When you hypnotized me, you told me to feel things, and I felt them. You told me to feel sleepy. And I did. You told me to see things in my mind, and I did. You told me my arm was weightless, and I
felt
it!”

“But . . . but what do you want me to make you feel now?”

“Nothing,”
Hap cried. “You have to tell me not to care!”

 
CHAPTER
29

They sat on the same bench on the terrace,
under the tree of many fruits.

“I don’t know if there’s time,” Umber said. His voice quavered, and his gaze drifted toward the harbor, watching for the flare that the ship would send up.
Time is running out,
that flare would say.
Take a seat, Lord Umber, and watch all your dreams laid low.

“Then you should start now,” Hap said, with a harsh note in his voice that he had never produced before. It made Umber’s head snap back, but he nodded.

“Right,” Umber said. “But wait. Take this.” He reached into a pocket and drew out the strange, clear envelope that held the picture of the woman whom Willy wanted Hap to save. “I wrote down some information on her. Who she was, where to find her.”

Hap shoved it into a pocket. “Willy said a Meddler has to keep his promises.”

“Did he?” Umber said. He shifted in his seat and wiped his palms on his thighs. “So then . . . I guess we’ll begin. Close your eyes, Happenstance, and take a deep breath. The deepest you’ve ever taken. Hold it for a moment, and let it out slowly.”

Hap did as he was asked. Umber went on, his voice falling to a soft drone. He told Hap to take another deep breath, and said it over and over again, ten times altogether. The process was ingrained in Hap’s mind, and following the commands was as easy as tracing steps in the dust. Umber told him to relax his muscles, one by one. He told him to imagine stairs and to feel more at ease with every step down. He told him to picture a single candle shining like a star in a vast dark room, and imagine that nothing else mattered. When Umber told him his arm was without weight, the limb drifted up with a feathery lightness. Hap felt aloft and detached, and the world faded away.

Even when something in the distance rose high into the air with a screeching whistle and dimly exploded, it did not jar Hap from his trance. Nor did Umber’s groan of dismay and muttered words: “The flare.”

A voice drifted up from far below. Someone was shouting on the causeway. Hap recognized the voice of the spy, the whistler, Spakeman. “Last chance, Lord Umber. Give the Supremacy what he wants!”

Hap was not shaken then, or when footsteps approached and Sophie cried out, “Lord Umber—Balfour says those guns are turning this way, not at the city. You have to run!”

With his eyes still shut, Hap reached out and found Umber’s wrist. “Keep going,” Hap whispered.

Sophie called out again, but Umber hushed her. “Get downstairs, Sophie.” Hap sensed Umber leaning close. When he spoke again, the voice was like an echo in Hap’s mind.

Happenstance. Your feelings run deep. You care about those whom you’ve come to know. That was what Willy Nilly did not expect when he turned a boy into a Meddler. And now you must let go of your feelings. Picture them as lengths of cord, binding each of us to your heart. Sever those cords, Happenstance. One by one. Cut the cord that ties you to Sophie. In his mind Hap saw himself surrounded by the people he cared for. The string that linked him to Sophie snapped, slashed by his will, and Sophie drifted from sight. As the cords are severed, your feelings go with them. Now Balfour. And Oates. Nima. Thimble. Fay and Sable. One by one Hap’s circle of friends diminished.

And me, Happenstance,
Umber’s voice finally said.
Most of all, cut me loose. Be the Meddler you are meant to be. Free your heart. Embrace your powers. When you open your eyes—

There was a crack of thunder, and an eagle’s screech, and it sounded as if the air above was torn in half. Umber rushed out the words: “You will be a—” But his cry was drowned out by an all-consuming roar. Hap opened his eyes in time to see a great red and black firestorm fill his vision. Umber stood and was blown off his feet, into Hap, and they tumbled across the terrace and sprawled on the stone. Hap rose up on his hands and knees and then stood, with a deafening ring inside his brain. A second explosion rocked the Aerie, striking the side of the tower somewhere below. Dust and ash stung his nose and made him cough. Smoke hung in the air until the sea breeze pushed the cloud aside. He felt a hand on his ankle. Umber was reaching out for him. Umber’s head bobbed unsteadily, his chin an inch off the ground. Blood trickled down his forehead from beneath his hair. He let go of Hap’s ankle and pointed.

Hap looked. Umber’s tower atop the Aerie was torn open, half of it lying in rubble. Flaming paper rained down; torn fragments from Umber’s books. They were everywhere, like the leaves of autumn.

“Jonathan lied,” Umber said. “Tried to kill me.”

Hap felt only a vague curiosity for Umber’s shock and fear. He was more interested in the luminous filament that emerged from Umber’s chest. Even before he touched it, he heard its song, filled with wonderfully obvious meaning.

More threads emerged from the stairs that led to the terrace.
Oates,
Hap could tell, just by looking at one.
Sophie,
he knew, stepping forward to let his hand pass through the other.

The guns of the ship fired again, and the Aerie shook as the artillery slammed into its side. Oates and Sophie dashed onto the terrace. Sophie screamed at the sight of the ruined tower, and Oates rushed forward and scooped Umber up like an infant. “Get downstairs,” he roared at Hap.

“Right behind you,” Hap said, but when Oates and Sophie ran, he did not follow. He stared down at his own filament, narrowing his eyes. It suddenly seemed to him that it was hollow. And if he stared at it a certain way, it might turn before his eyes and reveal a different angle, an unexpected dimension, and he might even be able to step inside, and who knew what he might see then?

The thread told him there wasn’t much time. A heartbeat or two. “Better hurry,” he said, almost singing the words. He felt calm and bemused despite the jeopardy. There was another roar of the guns, and a rising screech even louder than the first, flying straight for his ears. The terrace was enveloped by flame, and the tree of many fruits was blasted away, limbs on fire. Hap was there, but yet not there, because he had slipped inside the filament.

He was in the Neither.

 
CHAPTER
30

Neither here nor there, Hap thought.

The Neither was a void, bitterly cold. The land and sky were gone and only filaments remained, glittering gossamer against endless, starless black. There was a strand for every living being on the wide, round world. He saw the footprint of civilization, cities and villages where filaments clustered, seas and wastelands devoid of humanity, and roads where people traversed.

Time itself had ceased to be when he entered the Neither. He knew this, because every thread was poised, unmoving.
No, not every thread,
he told himself. His was filled with life and energy. It darted in every direction, flying across the globe, wherever he directed his thoughts, and it carried him with it. When it crossed another thread, he felt a glimpse of the life of the person it touched, as if a breeze were blowing across open books, flipping pages for him to read. He sensed what was happening, and how it might be altered if he were to drop back into the world and intervene.

“This is how a Meddler meddles,” he said. His voice was barely audible, the sound conducted only through his own flesh. He raised his hands in front of his eyes and was mildly surprised that he’d maintained a physical form in this ethereal realm.

The cold began to penetrate. His ears stung. His feet tingled and lost their feeling. He wrapped his arms against his chest, but it gave him no comfort.

A jolt went through him, but not from the cold. He’d been so transfixed by the Neither and preoccupied by the cold that he’d almost forgotten: the Aerie was being destroyed by the guns of the
Vanquisher
. He looked below where he floated, and counted the threads that represented his friends. None had been extinguished yet, he saw. His filament turned and flew down among them, and he slid along the thread like a spider to better perceive their fates.

His friends were going to die. The guns would go on battering the Aerie high and low. When a hole was opened near the gatehouse, the guns would pause and the armed men on the causeway, who had withdrawn from harm’s way, would rush in. Oates would charge at them, and five or six of the invaders would die before Oates fell, his body riddled with lead. Umber would tell the rest to surrender, but the guns would still blaze. There would be no mercy. And then, as the guns of the
Vanquisher
turned upon the rest of the city, the search for the computer would begin.

That must not be,
Hap thought. The iciness of the void was beginning to muddle his thoughts, and he knew he could not stay inside for much longer. He saw where the
Vanquisher
floated in the water; its shape was defined by another cluster of filaments. As soon as he considered it, his own thread shot across the space between, and he soared with it.

Hap stepped out of the Neither, onto the deck of the ship. After the icy serenity of the void, his senses were assaulted by the sight of the
Vanquisher
and the battered Aerie, the stinging scent of the great guns, and the thumping roar of the engines. He rubbed his hands together and blew on his palms, and hopped from foot to foot to drive away the dead, numb sensation.

The Supremacy was there, smiling with his jaw clamped tight, his eyes filled with a savage glee. There were a dozen men near him, but all eyes were upon the Aerie, which was obscured by smoke. They were waiting for the smoke to clear, before the guns would aim and fire once more.

Doane leaned out, holding the railing at his waist.
A little push would change things,
Hap thought. But his mind recoiled at the notion. That was not how Meddlers operated, he knew. There could be nothing so blunt, so direct.

“Hey!” cried a voice. “You there!” Hap looked over. He’d been seen. A man was pointing at him. Then everyone was looking. Doane’s face transformed itself—the malicious smile opened into a gaping circle. The eyes popped. Hap wanted to laugh out loud.

“Time to go,” he said, as men rushed toward him. He tried to slip back into his filament, but nothing happened. “Oh yes,” he said, not caring who heard. “Can’t vanish when someone’s watching.” He sprang up and away from clutching hands. The leap carried him over their heads. He landed, crouched, and soared again. One or two of the men were armed, and he saw rifles swing his way. But he was gone, over the railing, plummeting past the steep side of the great ship, out of sight.

Hap slipped into the Neither, but only for a moment, before he reappeared inside the
Vanquisher
. He stood in a corner, hiding from the men who moved about inspecting the gears and works that filled the room. The heat was oppressive, and the air stank of oil and sweat. The noise was clanking and unpleasant, unlike anything he’d heard. Near the back of the ship was a massive, plated mechanical thing with steam whistling through pipes, and thick metal arms that moved in circles when engaged. Hap supposed that those arms turned the paddle wheel that propelled the ship, but the idea did not hold his interest for long. He looked about, tapping his lips with a finger, and then decided to move on.

The next place where he appeared felt more promising. He was on a balcony that overlooked a vast hold. Beneath him were hundreds of long boxes, and barrels lashed together with great care. It was all carefully secured with ropes to keep the cargo from shifting.

Hap’s mind went back to a conversation between Umber and Doane. Umber had asked: “The hold must be full of explosives, correct?” And Doane had replied: “Crate after crate of artillery, rockets, bullets, and bombs. Enough to reduce seven Kurahavens to rubble and dust.”

Hap rubbed his fingertips together. “Perhaps. But now what?” He heard men shouting and feet pounding the planks above. “Find him,” someone cried. “Searching for me,” Hap said, chuckling quietly.

Filaments hovered in the air before him: the paths of men who’d come this way, and who were yet to pass. He reached among them and perceived that two men were soon to arrive, hunting for the intruder. Violent, greedy souls, one with a lantern to light the way. In Hap’s mind, he pictured a sequence of events unfolding. “But what makes the sequence begin?” he wondered. And then he saw a strange aura surrounding the chain he wore around his neck: a silver locket, seashell-shaped, that held an enormous pearl of extraordinary value. “The cause,” Hap said, almost singing the words.

He saw a glow appear in a threshold not far away, and heard voices murmur. Quickly he took the chain off his neck, opened the locket to reveal the pearl, and set it on the planks, close to the balcony. And then he vanished, reappearing below, where he could peer up from between two crates.

The men prowled along the balcony, searching. Both had cudgels in their hands, ready to batter the intruder. The first man, who held the lantern, stopped suddenly and dropped to his knees. He put the lantern on the ground to free his hand so he could scoop up a small, glittering object. A conversation began that soon turned angry.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’.”

“Don’t tell me it was nothin’—it was somethin’. Looked like a pearl as big as my eye!”

“Forget it, I tell you.”

The words became shouts, and then a wrist was seized, and the two men slammed into the balcony. As they scuffled, a foot struck the lantern, pushing it perilously close to the edge. Cudgels swung, and the first man was struck in the face. Blood flowed, and the first man struck back, cracking his crewmate on the temple. The second man staggered and groaned, leaning heavily against the railing, and a shove in the chest sent him tumbling over the rail. He crashed headfirst into the cargo below, not far from where Hap was hiding, and was still.

The man above staggered into the shadows, half-blinded by the sheet of blood pouring into his eyes. The lantern remained, perched on the edge above.

Hap smiled. The sequence was in motion. And it was beautifully indirect, as Meddlers like it.

He felt an uncomfortable tug at his conscience. The ship had to be destroyed, but could he let so many perish? Entering the Neither, he drifted among the filaments, judging the invaders and their destinies. They were grim men, accustomed to killing, intent on pillage. In another hold were the riches they’d stolen from the kingdoms they’d conquered. They had done unspeakable things to people who’d begged for mercy.

“That answers that,” Hap said, and he searched for the thing he needed next. It was there, as his instincts had promised, on the horizon. When he saw what it was, he shivered with delight. He was there in an instant, standing on the back of the great leviathan. A slender, black-haired woman, clad in sealskin, stood with her back to him, staring at smoke and fire in the distance. She sensed the dimming of light and whispery sound that foretold a Meddler’s arrival, and then she turned around and gasped.

“Happenstance!” she cried. “How did you...” She stepped closer, and her eyes grew wider. She reached out and touched his hair.

“It’s all white now, isn’t it?” Hap asked her.

She nodded. “White . . . but it dazzles. Like the sun in the water. What has become of you? Are you all right?” She raised her arms, but Hap backed away from her embrace.

“Nima, listen carefully,” Hap said. “You were thinking of doing something to help. Even though you and Boroon are afraid. Weren’t you?”

She nodded again and looked toward Kurahaven. “We have seen what that ship has done. How it destroys the Aerie with fire. Is . . . is Lord Umber safe?”

“Would you like him to be safe? You should do something, then.”

Nima detected the change in Hap. She gave him a wary look.

“A wave is all Umber needs,” Hap said. “An enormous wave, beside that ship. But don’t go too close, understand? Or the guns will kill Boroon, and the gulls will feast on his flesh.”

Nima’s hand rose up and covered her mouth. She stared at Hap. “Don’t mind me,” he said, shaking his head. He felt giddy and impulsive, liable to say anything, despite the danger his friends were in. “I’m not quite myself at the moment. Say, what’s that over there?”

Hap vanished again as soon as Nima turned to look. A moment later he was at the top of the royal palace. In its highest tower, under the magnificent clock, was a porch, big enough for two to stand side by side and look across the bay. Behind him was a pair of glass doors that opened to a room reserved for visiting royalty. This was where Fay and Sable were staying, but neither of them was inside.

“Such a view,” he said, turning back to the open air.

Far below he saw a pair of tiny figures running from the palace. One was short and one tall, both in dresses. “There you are!” he said. His curiosity was teased, and so he slipped into the Neither to read their filaments.

He listened to the song, and smiled. The news of Loden’s death had caused chaos in the palace, and Sable and Fay had slipped past the guards who kept them there against their will. Now they were racing toward the Aerie. Hap felt his heart warm, knowing how Umber would feel if he saw Fay again, but he warded those feelings away so they would not loosen his grip on his emergent powers.

He reappeared in the tower. The guns of the
Vanquisher
roared again, gashing the walls of the Aerie. Hap saw the carved face at the corner, the place that had once been his room, break away and fall into the water below. “That wasn’t nice,” he said to the distant ship. Doane was on the deck, applauding the destruction. Men ran about, still searching for the strange boy who’d vanished.

Beyond the
Vanquisher
, deep in the bay, Hap saw water rise up into a mound that surged straight at the ship. Boroon was charging, swimming just under the surface.

A man on the deck pointed to the disturbance, drawing the attention of the others. Doane rushed over for a closer look, and his arms waved. Men cranked wheels, and one of the great guns on the deck turned toward Boroon.

The gun roared. A plume of water shot up in the center of the mound. Boroon’s progress slowed for a moment, and dark debris floated up.
Was he hit?
Hap wondered. The leviathan had no filament to tell the story, and he could not read Nima’s from where he stood. A wide swirl appeared, and Boroon’s broad tail breached the surface for a moment as he dove.

There was a breathless silence. Doane and his men rushed to the stern of the
Vanquisher
, straining to see where the threat might have gone. And then the leviathan roared out of the sea a hundred feet from the starboard side.

Hap saw Nima, tiny from this distance, clinging to the leviathan’s back in her usual perch. The barge that was strapped to Boroon was damaged, with a gouge blown into its center by the swiveling gun, and water poured from its usually airtight space. Boroon himself was unharmed. The guns on the side of the
Vanquisher
were unprepared for the appearance of the sea-beast, and they failed to fire. Boroon hung in the air for a moment, his enormous crescent flippers flung wide like wings. Then he fell, and his bulk crashed deep into the sea, hurling up a pair of towering waves. One sped toward the
Vanquisher
.