God of Clocks

pebbled beach. It seemed they had traversed a narrow peninsula and thus arrived at an inlet on the other side. Here the waters were mirror still, for this part of the Flower Lake formed a natural harbour. A number of small metal boats lay grounded upon silver shingles, beyond which stood a cluster of simple wooden houses and sheds.

The Hericans waited for them at the edge of their settlement. They were small, tough-looking people with weathered faces not unlike those of their Burntwater neighbours. Evidently they had been busy felling trees, as there were a great number of ragged stubs behind the waterline. Iron Head shook the leader's hand. “I appreciate all the work you put into those rafts, Kevin.”

The man barely raised his hooded eyes. “The lady promised Sabor would pay us. Same weight in copper for all the iron we sacrificed to make those burners,” he said. “We've not an oil pot left in the village, and there's still sixteen hundredweight of candlefish to be processed before they rot. So you have your brother Eli remind Lord Sabor which Hericans in which timeline he's supposed to pay, and sod his paradoxes. We've heard that excuse too often.”

“You have my word on that. I'll speak to Eli myself.”

The other man nodded.

Iron Head peered over at the other villagers and the tiny group of buildings behind them. “You got plans to avoid those arconites?” he said. “They'll probably head this way eventually.”

Kevin yawned. “Hide in the forest, I suppose. What are they going to do? Conquer Kevin's Jetty in the name of Hell?”

“Fair enough. We'll leave you in peace, then.”

Kevin yawned again. “Hide in the forest, I suppose,” he said. “What are they going to do? Conquer Kevin's Jetty in the name of Hell?”

Iron Head frowned at him. “All right, Kevin. We'll leave you in peace.”

Rachel and Mina exchanged a glance.

Mina whispered in her ear, “There must be consequences to time travel. Sabor's probably gone and broken some part of the universe.”

“Great.”

Mina leaned over and whispered again, “There must be consequences to-”

“Mina!”

The thaumaturge smiled. “I'm sorry. I couldn't resist it.”

Rachel's twin led the group on through the village. Kevin's Jetty was a dismal little settlement where the slatted timber dwellings had been rubbed with grease or oil as weatherproofing. The whole place stank of fish. From the opposite edge of the village the path continued around the narrow bay and climbed a headland beyond. Rachel sensed someone at her side, and turned to find Rosella and her husband, Abner, there.

“We're staying here,” the innkeeper's wife declared. “The Hericans have already agreed. We can hide with them when the arconites come.”

Abner just glared at her.

“I'm sorry for everything that's happened,” Rachel said. “I should never have involved you.”

“No, you shouldn't have,” Rosella replied. “You should never have come and kicked down our door.” She hesitated. “We lost everything: our home, our business, our stock-even our savings that were buried in the ground outside the Rusty Saw.”

Rachel didn't know what to say to that.

“Abner thinks maybe… maybe you should compensate us. You have all that gold, after all.”

The assassin sighed. “The coins are in Dill's mouth,” she said. “I'm sorry, Rosella, we've got nothing to give you.”

“Nothing?”

Rachel shook her head.

The couple turned away and walked back towards the Her icans.

“Oh, you're not going to let that depress you?” Mina was stroking Basilis with one glassy hand. “I've never seen you look so miserable. It's war, Rachel. Stuff happens.” She gave a half frown. “And didn't she attack you with an axe? I can't remember … was that before or after her husband shot you in the head?”

“She was only defending her property.”

“And you were exercising your right to seize that property.”

“My right?”

“By executing Cospinol's grand vision for our freedom, the god of brine and fog granted you the right.”

Rachel felt utterly miserable. “What gives him the authority?” she said harshly.

“He's bigger than us, so he can crush us mere mortals under his salty thumb. Relax now. That's the beauty of war. Utter subservience to one's leaders absolves a soldier of the consequences of her actions. Shift the blame, Rachel. It makes it easier to sleep at night.”

“Stop it,” Rachel snapped. “You're just doing this to annoy me. I made the decision, not Cospinol. I fucked up, and now I've ruined that woman's life because of it. Knowing we're at war doesn't make it any easier.”

Basilis barked suddenly. Mina looked down at the dog and then smiled. “He thinks you're a lousy Spine assassin,” she said, “but a very good soldier. Remember, the Adepts that Deepgate's Spine used to create by chemical torture are severely limited. Those assassins cannot develop their talents further once the Spine have finished raping their brains. But you can. Just think of war itself as a more gradual tempering process. You can let it break you, or change you.” She ruffled the dog's ears. “He's glad you weren't wasted under the Spine needles.”

Rachel grunted. “What would he know? He's just a dog.” She strode on ahead of the thaumaturge.

Irritated and thoroughly depressed, Rachel just wanted to be left alone now. Rosella's departure had left a shadow in her heart. Rachel had hardly spoken to the woman, didn't know what sort of a person she was, and until very recently hadn't actually cared. Had she spoken even once to the woman's husband?

Oran stepped in front of her, interrupting her thoughts. Ten of his men stood behind him. She'd been so preoccupied that she had hardly noticed them approaching. “You owe us wages,” the woodsmen's leader said in a hoarse whisper. “And blood money for the two of us you killed.”

Rachel glanced back along the path. Iron Head and his men were only just leaving the outskirts of Kevin's Jetty, so none of them had yet noticed this confrontation.

“Your wages are in Dill's mouth,” she said. “Go get them if you want.”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “Look at her,” he growled. “Her legs are still shaking. She's too weak now to pull another stunt like the one in the tavern.” He reached out for her.

Rachel sidestepped him easily, then backed away, her misery rapidly turning to anger. Oran and his men spread out to surround her, but she had no intention of allowing herself to become trapped. She was fully alert now, ready for any move they might make.

A hand on her shoulder startled her. She hadn't heard anyone sneak up behind her. She turned…

… and looked into the eyes of her twin.

The future Rachel said, “My legs aren't shaking, Oran. Tell your men to stand down. You saw what I did in the Rusty Saw. Now imagine what two of me could do to you right here and now.”

The woodsmen halted, and dark looks passed amongst them. Oran opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a shout from further down the path.

“What's this, brother?” Iron Head was quickly approaching. “You wouldn't be picking fights with women, would you?” He laughed. “That's not like the man I used to know.”

“Stay out of our business, Reed,” Oran growled at the Burntwater captain. “Two of my men died defending Lord Rys's honour.”

“Rys's honour?” Iron Head replied contemptuously. “Since when did the god of flowers and knives appoint you his champion? Did I miss your appearance at his court?”

“It was a fair fight until she stepped in.”

The captain grunted. “I heard about the last fair fight of yours,” he said. “A family on the Deepcut road, wasn't it? Strapping seventeen-year-old lad and his old grandfather.”