Elbert also confirmed an amazing but not-so-startling fact in Santiago’s notes: the clockmaker had indeed been partially successful in his efforts.
London—December 8, 1845
I visited the hermit in the clock tower one last time. He agreed to hand over the enchanted music box, as he finally deemed me worthy of being its new owner. I believe he felt a bit sorry for me. That, or he was showing signs of having finally been driven mad by its magic, same as its previous owners were rumored to be.
All the years I’ve spent listening for stories and all the miles I’ve traveled were worth it. I now have one of the most valuable items in existence. No words can describe the piece. It is like the most wonderful thing in the world spun with every terrible nightmare that exists.
I am still trying to determine whether it can be controlled in some way, or whether it simply operates of its own accord. One thing is certain: ownership of this item will be a burden. It’s far better suited for one who lives a dark and lonely life, who has no light left to share in the world. Such an existence would lift the burden, to be sure, but it’s not a life I desire. I must be careful not to fall down that path.
Someday, my turn will come to pass along this valuable piece to another trustworthy soul. Until then, I hope to complete what I’ve set out to do.
Although Elbert was unsurprised to learn Santiago owned a piece of the time touch, he found it rather curious that the piece was inside, of all places, the music box. He had yet to see evidence of the box’s magic. Aside from the tingling sensation he had when he’d first touched it, the music box seemed like an ordinary thing. No matter how he tinkered, toyed, and fiddled with the box, he couldn’t get it to open. It remained tightly shut, day after day, month after month. Santiago had told him it only played on certain occasions, but he never said what those occasions were.
So Elbert went back through Santiago’s transcribed notes seeking clues. He spent several weeks ruminating on a particularly enigmatic verse the clockmaker had written:
There are three parts to the time touch, locked in three separate objects:
One in which all is foretold,
One in which lie gifts of gold,
One in which past days unfold.
One piece of the time touch lay, of course, in the music box. Which piece it was, Elbert couldn’t say. He deduced it was not the third, since a diary entry late in Santiago’s life specifically mentioned it as something that eluded him.
New York—July 10, 1904
The one in which past days unfold—the most important piece of all. My guess has always been that the object is a clock of some sort. The hands would go backward and allow the user to go back through time. For fifty years and counting, whenever a customer brings in a watch or timepiece that needs fixing, I’ve kept a keen eye out for such an item. I’ve written to my colleagues in other cities, I’ve watched the international papers for news of strange timepieces. But to no avail. I worry I’ve been mistaken.
Elbert also suspected, though Santiago never wrote or spoke of it explicitly, that the clockmaker had a second piece of the time touch in his possession: the one in which lie gifts of gold. He thought back to his days performing onstage. The golden pendulum Santiago had sold him had always been extraordinary—perhaps a tad too extraordinary. Elbert recalled how whenever he’d used it, time seemed to stand still briefly, not just for the person he was hypnotizing, but also for himself. But that was where the magic seemed to end. If the pendulum did contain a piece of the time touch, Elbert had yet to see its true powers (much like the music box). Nonetheless, he made sure he kept the pendulum close to his heart as he continued his research.
Perhaps what haunted him most was the last and final page in Santiago’s diary, written in a shaky hand:
It is my own folly that I expected to have time and energy to continue my search at this stage. Despite my best efforts, I failed to locate that most important piece—the one that I am certain would have allowed me to save the Governess. Even so, my work has resulted in a good and interesting life, and I think of what is to come when I am gone.
I met a bright young magician the other day. Full of potential, with a good heart. Worthy of the responsibility.
Like the hermit in the tower, it is time for me to pass on the legacy.
I believe in you, Elbert. Keep safe what you’ve been given, and I wish you luck in finding what eluded me.
The research kept Elbert busy. At first, he saw no one, talked to no one, and barely went outside, unless it was for a quick run to the market for some bread and fruit.
But bread and fruit cost money, and it soon became clear to Elbert that he would have to engage with the world if he wanted to eat and continue his quest. To pay the bills, he sold homemade lavender candle clocks, exactly as Santiago had taught him. Day and night, the studio apartment was crowded with pots of wax, lavender, and batches of long, white-and-green-striped candles that burned precisely one stripe every hour. They lasted twice as long as the other candles on the market, and were touted to have healing powers thanks to their gentle lavender scent. The candles became immensely popular. (It helped, too, that a small group of Elbert’s most ardent fans from his magician days promoted the candles wherever they could.) Soon, Elbert had loyal customers returning to his apartment each week, from fishmongers to teachers to
