God of Clocks

Oh gods, those men know they're not coming back.

“Garstone,” cried the dark-caped Sabor. “Let's do this quickly.”

An older version of the multiplicious assistant appeared, wearing round-rimmed spectacles and a faded green suit. He bowed to his master and then ushered the original Riot Coasters further up into the castle, towards whatever door would lead them to the battle.

Amongst the warriors who remained below, one raised his head to those who now marched away, and shouted three words in a language Rachel did not recognize.

The warriors on the gallery laughed. One replied in a single harsh word that Rachel took to be repartee, for his battle-weary colleagues now joined in the laughter of their departing selves.

Once the warriors had gone, a bleak silence fell upon the hall. For several moments the resident Sabor conferred quietly with another of his Riot Coasters, then he turned to his temporal brother. “Hulfer died bravely,” he said. “His men have sworn to avenge him as soon as they are rested.”

“How many times have these men gone back to fight?” Rachel enquired.

“Twelve times.”

“Against men?” Hasp growled. “I'll join the fight and even the odds. Menoa's parasite can't take orders from these foes.”

“You can't,” Mina warned. “If you fight along with the Riot Coasters, you won't come back. Look around you! You haven't come back.”

Hasp made a dismissive gesture. “That hardly matters.”

Mina stared at him for a moment longer. “If you go, then I'm coming, too.”

Rachel turned to her. “Mina!”

“I won't allow it,” Hasp said. “Use your own logic, thaumaturge. Do you see yourself here amongst these survivors?”

One of the Riot Coasters spoke in his own language to the resident Sabor.

“He says Hasp fought like a god of old,” the dark-suited Sabor said. “He killed many Sombrecur. The women and the phantasm, too, proved their bravery on the battlefield. Without their help, the Obscura would surely have fallen.”

Rachel felt a chill in her heart. She hadn't actually planned on returning to fight, and certainly had no intention of sacrificing herself during the next few hours. Their path lay elsewhere. She was determined to reach Heaven at all costs.

The Riot Coaster had continued to speak.

The resident Sabor translated. “He says you were delayed at the lakeshore, because one of the Pandemerian holy men had intelligence relevant to your mission. He then says the first boats were successfully repelled, and the Sombrecur are regrouping across the lake. You are no longer in danger, and you have promised to return before nightfall.”

“You see?” Hasp said. “It's evening now. I'll be back with you in less than an hour from now.”

“We'll all be back,” Mina confirmed. “Rachel? What do you say?”

But Hasp became suddenly angry. “You two are staying here,” he insisted. “I'm going on my own.”

“But history-”

“To hell with history,” he growled. “I don't need or want a couple of frightened girls with me. You'll just get in my way and slow me down.” He stormed away, roaring, “Garstone! One of you show me which godforsaken door I need to take.”

Mina hurried after him. Rachel exchanged a glance with Dill, and they both followed. They caught up with the Lord of the First Citadel just as he was about to step into the timelock.

“We were there,” Mina protested. “So you know we're coming back with you now.”

“You are not.”

“What's the matter with you, Hasp?”

He opened the timelock door. “Just get the hell away from me. If you try to step in here beside me, I'll murder all three of you myself.” With that he disappeared into the timelock and slammed the door behind him.

Rachel peered through the porthole. She saw Hasp reach forward to open the outer door beyond, and then he faded from sight. “He's gone,” she said. “Maybe we should just wait for him downstairs.”

“He might not make it back to the castle without us,” Mina said. “We were there, Rachel. If we don't follow him back now, we'll change the past. Anything could happen to him.”

“All right.” Rachel exhaled slowly. “How far back are we going?”

A passing Garstone said, “Six hours, miss.”

Together the three of them stepped into the timelock.

The suite beyond was no different from the others in the castle, a musty storage space for old furniture and clocks. Hasp had already left. Rachel briefly glimpsed the back of his head as he closed the outer door.

In a moment they had followed him out of the timelock and caught up with him again.

He wheeled on them savagely. “I ordered you to stay.”

“And we ignored you,” Mina said. “Get over it.”

Blood flooded the glass scales covering the god's face, giving him a frightening appearance. “You'll all die here today.”

“But the Riot Coaster said-”

“The Riot Coaster said no such thing. I understand the man's language!” He sucked air in and out of his nose, then continued in a harsh whisper. “Sabor did not translate that warrior's speech truthfully. The god of clocks lied to you. The Sombrecur will slaughter us. Only Dill survives, and that's because he's already dead.”

A sinking feeling invaded Rachel's stomach. Her mind groped for solutions. “If we remain in the castle…”

“We can't,” Mina said wearily. “Our presence at the battle might well have kept the Sombrecur from taking over this castle, and if we lose the Obscura to the enemy, then there's no way back for us.” She glanced at a nearby clock. “We need to think of a way to keep events consistent with what the Riot Coasters saw.”

But Hasp stormed off, calling back over his shoulder, “It's simpler if we just die in battle.”

Carnival woke lying on the floor of the same white room. This time there was no mirror, no bed or other furniture, and no window, either-nothing but a featureless box with a tiled floor.

Alteus Menoa stood in one corner, gazing at her. He was wearing a toga of white cloth slung over his shoulder and wrapped around his midriff, revealing the bronzed muscles on his chest and arms. His golden eyes were unreadable, but his expression was not unkind. “Why do you continue to destroy yourself?” he said.

She eased herself into a sitting position, glancing at his throat as she judged the distance she would have to traverse to seize it. She averted her eyes again.

The Lord of the Maze waited for her to reply and when she didn't he said, “My priests are eager to torture you.”

Her eyes flicked up.

“But I fear you would only relish their primitive methods.” He studied her for a moment longer. “So how do I make you appreciate what you've been given? By showing you the alternatives?” He lifted a finger.

Carnival's whole body froze solid. She glanced down to see her skin and clothes harden and quickly adopt a porcelainlike lustre. She could not breathe or move as much as an eyelid. Her dry eyes remained fixed on her glassy white knee, so smooth and brittle. Menoa's footsteps sounded as he approached across the tile floor.

“What is destruction to you without pain?” He kicked her.

Carnival felt nothing, but she heard a noise like shattering pottery, and the world spun dizzily around her.

When the room settled again, she found herself gazing at pieces of a broken face: lips, a nose, a shard of her jaw, all cast from glazed white ceramic. Her face. The fragments of her body lay scattered across the floor in front of her. Unable to blink or move, she could do nothing but stare.

She heard his footsteps behind her, and crunching sounds.

“Should I now return the use of your nerves to you,” he said, “and let you experience what this damage feels like?” He continued to pace. “Or would that simply be giving you exactly what you