Thief of Time

and it is not the same water any more. An hour ago they never dreamed of having names, and now they are arguing about them…

And they can't hear what I think!

She wanted more time. The habits of a billion years don't yield entirely to a mouthful of dry toast, and she could see that a crazy life-form like humanity should not be allowed to exist. Yes, indeed. Certainly. Of course.

But she wanted more time.

They should be studied. Yes, studied.

There should be… reports. Yes. Reports. Full reports. Long, long full reports.

Caution. That was it. That was the word! Auditors loved that word. Always put off until tomorrow something which, tomorrow, you could put off until, let's say, next year.

It has to be said that Lady LeJean was not herself at this point. She didn't quite have a herself to be. The other six Auditors… in time, yes, they'd think the same way. But there wasn't time. If only she could persuade them to eat something. That would… yes, that would bring them to their senses. There seemed to be no food around, though.

She could see a very large hammer on the bench.

“How is progress, Mr Jeremy?” she said, walking over to the clock. Igor moved very fast, and stood almost protectively next to the glass pillar.

Jeremy hurried forward. “We have carefully aligned all the systems—”

“—again—” Igor growled.

“Yes, again—”

“Theveral timeth, in fact,” Igor added.

“And now we simply await the right weather conditions.”

“But I thought you stored lightning?”

Her ladyship indicated the greenish glass cylinders bubbling and hissing along the wall of the workshop. Just by the bench with, yes, the hammer on it. And no one could read her thoughts! The power!

“There will easily be enough to keep the mechanism working, but to start the clock will require what Igor calls a jump,” said Jeremy.

Igor held up two crocodile clips the size of his head.

“'Th'right,” he said. “But you hardly ever get the right kind of thunderthtormth down here. Thould've built thith in Uberwald, I keep thaying.”

“What is the nature of this delay?” said—possibly—Mr White.

“We need a thunderstorm, sir. For the lightning,” said Jeremy. Lady LeJean stepped back, a little closer to the bench.

“Well? Arrange one,” said Mr White.

“Hah, well, if we were in Uberwald, of courthe—”

“It is merely a matter of pressures and potentials,” said Mr White. “Can you not simply create one?”

Igor gave him a look of disbelief mixed with respect.

“You're not from Uberwald, are you?” he said. Then he gasped, and banged the side of his head.

“Hey, I felt that one,” he said. “Whoopth! How did you do that? Prethure dropping like a thtone!”

Sparks glittered along his black fingernails. He beamed.

“I'll jutht go and raithe the lightning rod,” he said, hurrying to a pulley system on the wall.

Lady LeJean turned on the others. This time she wished they could read her thoughts. She didn't know enough pronounceable human swearwords.

“That is against the rules!” she hissed.

“Mere expediency,” said Mr White. “If you had not been… lax, this would have been concluded by now!”

“I counselled further study!”

“Unnecessary!”

“Is there a problem?” said Jeremy, in the diffident voice he used for conversations not involving clocks.

“The clock should not be started yet!” said Lady LeJean, not taking her eyes off the other Auditors.

“But you asked me… we've been… it's all set up!”

“There may be… problems! I think we should see another week of testing!”

But there weren't problems, she knew. Jeremy had built the thing as if he'd built a dozen like it before. It had been all Lady LeJean could do to spin things out this long, especially with the Igor watching her like a hawk.

“What is your ‘name’, young person?” said Mr White to Jeremy.

The clockmaker backed away. “Jeremy,” he said, “and I… I don't understand, Mr, er, White. A clock tells the time. A clock isn't dangerous. How can a clock be a problem? It's a perfect clock!”

“Then start it!”

“But her ladyship—”

The door knocker thundered.

“Igor?” said Jeremy.

“Yeth, thur?” said Igor, from the hallway.

“How did the servant person get there?” said Mr White, still watching her ladyship.

“It's a, a sort of trick they, they have,” said Jeremy. “I'm, I'm sure it's only—”

“It'th Dr Hopkinth, thur,” said Igor, entering from the hall. “I told him you were buthy, but—”

–but Dr Hopkins, although apparently as mild-mannered as milk, was also a Guild official and had survived as such for several years. Ducking under Igor's arm was no problem at all for a man who could handle a meeting of clockmakers, no two of whom exactly ticked in time with the rest of humanity.

“I just happened to have business this way,” he began, smiling brightly, “and it was no trouble to drop in at the apothecary to pick up—Oh, you have company?”

Igor grimaced, but there was the Code to think of.

“Thall I make thome tea, thur?” he said, as all the Auditors glared at the doctor.

“What is this tea?” Mr White demanded.

“It is protocol!” snapped Lady LeJean.

Mr White hesitated. Protocol was important.

“Er, er, er, yes,” said Jeremy. “Tea, Igor, please. Please.”

“My word, I see you have finished your clock!” said Dr Hopkins, apparently oblivious of an atmosphere that could have floated iron. “What a magnificent piece of work!”

The Auditors stared at one another as the doctor ambled past them and looked up at the glass face.

“Well done indeed, Jeremy!” he said, removing his glasses and polishing them enthusiastically. “And what is this pretty blue glow?”

“It's, it's the crystal ring,” said Jeremy. “It, it—”

“It spins light,” said Lady LeJean. “And then it makes a hole in the universe.”

“Really?” said Dr Hopkins, putting his glasses back on. “What an original idea! Does a cuckoo come out?”

Tick

Of the very worst words that can be heard by anyone high in the air, the pair known as “Oh-oh” possibly combine the maximum of bowel-knotting terror with the minimum wastage of breath.

When Lu-Tze uttered them, Lobsang didn't need a translation. He'd been watching the clouds for some