Thief of Time

metal door of the Iron Dojo. The clasp of the door was fifteen feet up. No one who did not belong there was supposed to open the door of the dojo.

The sweeper nodded at his former apprentice.

“You do it,” he said. “I can't.”

Lobsang glanced at him, and then looked up at the high clasp. Then he pressed a hand against the iron.

Rust spread under his fingers. Red stains spread out across the ancient metal. The door began to creak, and then to crumble. Lu-Tze prodded it with an experimental finger, and a slab of biscuit-strong metal fell out and collapsed on the flagstones.

“Very impress—” he began. A squeaky rubber elephant bounced off his head.

“Bikkit!”

The crowd parted. The chief acolyte ran forward, carrying the abbot.

“What is the wanna bikkit BIKKIT meaning of this? Who is wozza funny man this person, Sweeper? The spinners are dancing in their hall!”

Lu-Tze bowed.

“He is Time, Reverend One, as you have suspected,” he said. Still bent in the bow, he looked up and sideways at Lobsang.

“Bow!” he hissed.

Lobsang looked puzzled. “I should bow even now?” he said.

“Bow, you little stonga, or I shall teach you such discipline! Show deserved respect! You are still my apprentice until I give you leave!”

Shocked, Lobsang bowed.

“And why do you visit us in our timeless valley?” said the abbot.

“Tell the abbot!” Lu-Tze snapped.

“I… I wish to learn the Fifth Surprise,” said Lobsang.

“—Reverend One—” said Lu-Tze.

“—Reverend One,” Lobsang finished.

“You visit us just to learn of our clever sweeper's fancies?” said the abbot.

“Yes, er, Reverend One.”

“Of all the things Time could be doing, you wish to see an old man's trick? Bikkit!”

“Yes, Reverend One.” The monks stared at Lobsang. His robe still fluttered this way and that in the teeth of the intangible gale, the stars glinting when they caught the light.

The abbot smiled a cherubic smile. “So should we all,” he said. “None of us has ever seen it, I believe. None of us has ever been able to wheedle it out of him. But… this is the Iron Dojo. It has rules! Two may walk in, but only one can walk out! This is no practice dojo! Wanna 'lephant! Do you understand?”

“But I don't want—” Lobsang began, and the sweeper jerked an elbow into his ribs.

“You say ‘Yes, Reverend One,’” he growled.

“But I never intended—”

This time the back of his head was slapped.

“This is no time to step back!” Lu-Tze said. “You're too late, wonder boy!” He nodded to the abbot. “My apprentice understands, Reverend One.”

“Your apprentice, Sweeper?”

“Oh, yes, Reverend One,” said Lu-Tze. “My apprentice. Until I say otherwise.”

“Really? Bikkit! Then he may enter. You too, Lu-Tze.”

“But I only meant to—” Lobsang protested.

“Inside!” Lu-Tze roared. “Will you shame me? Shall people think I have taught you nothing?”

The inside of the Iron Dojo was, indeed, a darkened dome full of spikes. They were needle thin and there were tens of thousands of them covering the nightmare walls.

“Who would build something like this?” said Lobsang, looking up at the glistening points that covered even the ceiling.

“It teaches the virtues of stealth and discipline,” said Lu-Tze, cracking his knuckles. “Impetuosity and speed can be as dangerous to the attacker as to the attacked, as perhaps you will learn. One condition: we are all human here? Agreed?”

“Of course, Sweeper. We are all human here.”

“And shall we agree: no tricks?”

“No tricks,” said Lobsang. “But—”

“Are we fighting, or are we talking?”

“But, look, if only one can walk out, that means I'll have to kill you—” Lobsang began.

“Or vice versa, of course,” said Lu-Tze. “That is the rule, yes. Shall we get on?”

“But I didn't know that!”

“In life, as in breakfast cereal, it is always best to read the instructions on the box,” said Lu-Tze. “This is the Iron Dojo, wonder boy!” He stepped back and bowed.

Lobsang shrugged, and bowed in return.

Lu-Tze took a few steps back. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then went through a series of simple moves, limbering up. Lobsang winced to hear the crackle of joints.

Around Lobsang there was a series of snapping noises, and for a moment he thought of the old sweeper's bones. But tiny hatches all over the curved wall were swinging open. He could hear whispers as people jostled for position. And by the sound of it, there were a great many people.

He extended his hands, and let himself rise gently in the air.

“I thought we said no tricks?” said Lu-Tze.

“Yes, Sweeper,” said Lobsang, poised in mid-air. “And then I thought: never forget Rule One.”

“Aha! Well done. You've learned something!”

Lobsang drifted closer. “You cannot believe the things that I have seen since last I saw you,” he said. “Words cannot describe them. I have seen worlds nesting within worlds, like those dolls they carve in Uberwald. I have heard the music of the years. I know more than I can ever understand. But I do not know the Fifth Surprise. It is a trick, a conundrum… a test.”

“Everything is a test,” said Lu-Tze.

“Then show me the Fifth Surprise and I promise not to harm you.”

“You promise not to harm me?”

“I promise not to harm you,” Lobsang repeated solemnly.

“Fine. You only had to ask,” said Lu-Tze, smiling broadly.

“What? I asked before and you refused!”

“You only had to ask at the right time, wonder boy.”

“And is it the right time now?”

“It is written, ‘There's no time like the present,’” said Lu-Tze. “Behold, the Fifth Surprise!”

He reached into his robe.

Lobsang floated closer.

The sweeper produced a cheap carnival mask. It was one of those that consisted of a fake pair of spectacles, glued above a big pink nose, and finished with a heavy black moustache.

He put it on and waggled his ears once or twice.

“Boo,” he said.

“What?” said Lobsang, bewildered.

“Boo,” Lu-Tze repeated. “I never said it was a particularly imaginative surprise, did I?”

He waggled his ears again, and then waggled his eyebrows.

“Good, eh?” he said, and grinned.