God of Clocks

A moment later he reached the outer facade of the Ninth Citadel. Here he willed the stonework to blister and form a balcony, which he stepped out upon.

His glass claws gripped the fresh bones and tendons of the balustrade he had just constructed. From this height he could see far across the canals of Hell. Temples and ziggurats of rotten black stone crouched amidst the red haze like huge dead spiders. Heavy barges plied the soul routes to every corner of the Maze. The skies were unusually busy with Iolite movement, he noted abstractly.

And then he looked down.

His Icarates were indeed responding to the citadel's pleas. Great numbers of them massed around the huge pyramidal Processor, driving dogcatchers and Non Morai and every other sort of demon and spectre before them. Thousands more of the king's creations were pouring into the citadel itself.

A flash of light drew his attention back to his own level. One of Menoa's many spies, an Iolite in the shape of a glass-winged lizard, alighted on the balcony. Its transparent feathers clashed and glittered, and then in a calm and pleasant voice it said, “The Ninth Citadel is under attack, my lord.”

“From whom?” Menoa asked. “Is it the river?”

“The river accompanies her,” the lizard said. “It hounds her heels like a dog, consuming the demons and Icarates that fall under her sword.”

“Her?”

“She is an angel, my lord.”

Menoa's glass mask assumed the visage of a frowning human. “Is she from the First Citadel?”

“She is not dead, my lord.”

Realization struck Menoa. A warrior hidden aboard Cospinol's skyship? Perhaps he had underestimated the old god…

But who was she? Where had Cospinol found someone powerful enough to attack the greatest stronghold in the Maze-by herself?

“Are you quite certain she is not from Hell?” he asked.

The Iolite snapped its beak impatiently. “She is alive.”

King Menoa's mask began to change again, its glass mouth turning upwards into a cold smile. He strode back into his for tress and further descended the central shaft without a tremor of hesitation in his pace, for Cospinol had just given him an unexpected and wonderful gift.

“We don't have any explosives,” Iron Head replied, as he adjusted his steel cap.

“But you must have,” Rachel insisted. “You said they'd been ready since the battle at Coreollis. They were put in place before the enemy arrived.”

“Clearly I lied, then. How many did you see?”

“How many bombs?” She tried to recall the sequence of explosions that had destroyed the town. “I don't know… at least twenty, I suppose.”

The captain thought for a moment and then nodded. “That sounds about right,” he said. “We ought to be able to scrape together that much powder before the Red King's automatons arrive. We've enough coke and saltpeter, although we're low on sulphur.”

Garstone clicked shut the cover of his pocket watch. “If the original Miss Hael-which is to say the version currently approaching this town in an arconite's jaw-is to reach the Obscura Redunda in time to return to this moment, we must evacuate Burntwater by sixteen minutes past three this afternoon.”

Iron Head nodded. “So we have about four hours.” He rose from his seat and plucked his scabbard and hammer from the wall behind. “I'll make the necessary arrangements. Miss Hael, will you show one of my lieutenants exactly where to place the powder kegs? I'd like to position them as closely as possible to the locations where you saw them explode.”

Rachel agreed.

Outside, she wasn't surprised to find that her older self was nowhere to be seen. She exchanged a glance with Garstone, who pressed a finger to his lips. Maintaining the integrity of the timeline.No doubt the other Rachel was still watching events unfold from somewhere nearby.

The captain gathered a group of his men together and issued his orders, and soon the whole settlement began making preparations for both the battle and the evacuation to come.

Burntwater became a labour camp for the next two hours. Rachel wandered the streets with Garstone and one of Iron Head's soldiers, a studious young man who scribbled notes on his slate with a piece of chalk. They chose the locations for the powder kegs to match, as precisely as possible, the places where Rachel had witnessed explosions going off. Armoured soldiers ran between the stockpiles, laying fuses. Sailors and fishermen readied their boats for a sudden departure. Citizens were informed of the evacuation plan and told to pack food and water, but nothing more.

Later in the afternoon, the same watchtower lookout whom Rachel had allowed to escape arrived in town. She was already waiting with the captain and Garstone outside Headquarters when the young man reined in his mount. Iron Head's lieutenants helped him down from the saddle.

Barely older than a boy, and dressed in oversized leathers, he spoke in breathless fits. “An arconite… Captain, it destroyed our tower… killed Bennett and Simons. It was huge… Captain… Armed with a blade as big as a barge. It's coming this way.”

“It's all right, son,” the captain said. “We've been expecting just such an attack since Coreollis fell. Get yourself down to the docks and report to Cooper. He'll get you onto a boat.” He turned away, but then paused and looked back at the boy. “You did well, son. You've given us plenty of warning.”

Once the boy had gone, Iron Head said to Rachel, “We're manning the walls now, Miss Hael, so if I were you I'd make myself scarce. I suggest you take your boat out onto the lake and wait for me to turn up with your other self.”

“You can't let her know about all this,” Rachel pointed out. “I'm supposed to be the one who explains things to her.” And punches her. Rachel suppressed a wince. She now found herself in almost exactly the same position as the future twin she had met out upon the lake.

Almost exactly.

“Don't worry, Miss Hael. I've never met you before. We'll fling our arrows at the monster, and dodge the missiles he throws at us.”

Rachel nodded. She needed to find her older self now, though with any luck she wouldn't require her help after all. The powder kegs were all set, and her approaching self would be kept in the dark about all the preparations made here today. The whole situation looked set to replicate the events she remembered.

And perhaps she could still save Dill.

“One more thing, Captain,” she said. “How deep is the lake?”

“About a hundred and fifty fathoms. Why?”

Deep enough. Rachel felt a surge of hope. “Not long after I first met you,” she explained, “you climbed inside Dill's skull. I mean… this all happened in the battle that's about to come. You said you wanted to look inside the arconite for yourself. I couldn't understand why at the time, but now I do. You were giving Dill a message from me.”

“What's the message?”

“In all the smoke and confusion to come, he might have a chance to escape from Menoa's giants-”

“If he submerges himself underwater and walks across the lake bed?”

Rachel's eyes narrowed. “Have I told you this part of my plan before?” Had yet another version of herself already been here?

“No, Miss Hael, it just seems obvious to me. Your giant friend doesn't need to breathe, after all.” He scratched his beard. “If Dill is going to flee under the lake, the best place for your friend Hasp is likely to be inside the air pocket in the angel's skull.”

Of course. It made perfect sense to Rachel. Hasp would be able to breathe for a short time while Dill escaped. She could save both of them.

The captain added, “I'll tell you to put Hasp there before the king's arconites arrive. Until then, we'll let your plan to foil Oran run as planned.”

A horn blared from one of the watchtowers atop the Burnt water walls. Iron Head turned to go, but then