A Tale of Time City

  “He seemed very sure of himself,” she said.

  Jonathan leant on the lion-shaped mound. Under his flickering eye-function, his eyes were smudged and his face had a queer blueness to it. “I don’t think he had much brain,” he said. “If the thief’s clever, he could trick him easily. We have to find the Lead Casket. If that’s the strongest, it’s got to be kept safe!”

  Vivian did not like the way Jonathan looked. The woman had warned him to go easy. “Let’s find her first, and then perhaps eat something,” she suggested.

  Jonathan agreed, rather limply. They went back to the place where the woman had been sitting, but she was not there. They thought at first that she had gone away entirely. Then they saw the huge shape of the horse Leon had stolen for them, browsing down in the corner of the meadow. The woman was stumping after it with one side of her dress held up, trying to coax it to come to her. They sat on the ledge that might have been a fallen column and watched her. It seemed safe enough to do that while the woman was behaving so peacefully. She got almost up to the horse, but the horse cunningly moved on just as they thought she had it. This happened over and over again. They got out the squares of nourishing food that Jonathan had brought and ate them while they watched. At first, they carefully saved some for the woman. But after a while, the horse edged away into the forest and the woman followed it.

  “That horse is just like the Watcher,” Jonathan said. “It’s obstinate as—as Sam and won’t listen to people and it probably thinks it’s as clever as Wilander. But she’ll catch it in the end, I know she will. Do you think everyone in the Golden Age is as gifted as she is?” He did not sound as gloomy as he had done before. The food had done him good.

  They sat until it was clear that the woman was not coming back. Then they shared out the food they had saved for her. “We never said thank you,” Vivian said guiltily. “And I think she saved your life. Hadn’t we better get back to Time City?” Long tree shadows were slanting over the meadow by then.

  “I suppose so.” Jonathan stood up and fetched the egg-control out of his purse. “I hope this works from here. I’m not going back down that glade and facing that bandit again, not for anything! Here goes. Time City, just after we left.”

  The egg worked, but it worked even more slowly and erratically than it had done when they made it take them back before. Jonathan and Vivian were pulled, and hung, and pulled, and hung again. Strange sights flickered in front of them: rows of mud huts, a town burning in great rolls of smoke, a frozen river, then crowds of people dancing and waving flags. Once, Vivian clearly saw a big red London bus, but it was not the shape of the buses she knew. Finally, when they were getting quite frightened, they were in a stony-smelling darkness lit by a faint flicker from the slab of slate.

  “Thank goodness!” said Vivian.

  “You knew we’d get back,” Jonathan said. He sounded very depressed. He got out his torch and began to climb the stairs. “This is all wrong,” he said as they went, “It’s not how we looked to be feeling as the time-ghosts. You could tell from those we were really excited, and I feel miserable as sin, don’t you? We haven’t done a scrap of good. He wouldn’t even say where the Lead Casket was. It’s enough to make you think Time City’s gone critical like Twenty Century!”

  “Except that the Twentieth Century went critical because someone stole the Iron Casket,” Vivian called up.

  At that, with a sort of snap, the truth hit both of them.

  12

  ANDROID

  Vivian said, “Time City’s an Unstable Era!”

  Jonathan answered, “The longest one there is!”

  Then they both said together, “Then the Lead Casket must be here!”

  They climbed the rest of the stairs without noticing them. At the top, the false wall had closed itself. They swung it round and squeezed past, one on each side. Jonathan turned off his torch and they hurried up the passage, talking eagerly the whole way.

  “That’s what he meant about Gold uniting with Lead,” Vivian said.

  “I bet it’s in the Gnomon Tower somewhere!” Jonathan said. “That fits in with the clock striking midday. What a relief! We can make sure it’s safe.”

  “We can tell someone it’s here without giving away how we know,” Vivian said.

  “Yes, and get them to put a proper guard on it,” said Jonathan. “We don’t want old grannies from the Annuate Guard. We want real Time Patrollers who know what they’re doing.”

  “Let’s tell Sam’s father,” said Vivian.

  “Let’s. He might take it seriously—not like Scientists talking about polarities,” Jonathan agreed.

  “That means the same thing,” Vivian said. “Where do you think the Lead Guardian is? He must be in the City. We ought to warn him too.”

  “He’ll be hard to find. The old paper said he kept secret,” Jonathan said. Here, half-way along the passage, he looked down and discovered he was still holding the control-egg. “Oh blast!” he said. “I forgot to put this back!”

  “Agents were always losing them,” said Vivian. “This is how.” They both laughed about it.

  Jonathan said, “I’ll keep it for now. We’d better get to the Gnomon before we do anything else.”

  Vivian said, “It sounds as if all the Caskets are supposed to come back to the Gnomon when the City gets to the end of time. And the Iron one won’t.”

  “I know,” Jonathan said. “As soon as we’ve made sure of the Lead Casket, we’ll go after the Silver and make the egg get us there before the thief.” He swung the chained door open, saying, “And let’s hope that Guardian’s a bit more reasonable than the Gold.”

  Leon Hardy was waiting outside. He had a thing in his hand with a shiny snout and a blue bulb halfway along. He was pointing it at them as pitilessly as the rider’s spear. Vivian knew it was a gun as quickly as Jonathan did. They stopped dead and stared at him. Leon laughed in their faces, with his handsome white teeth bared in a most unpleasant way. “I knew he wouldn’t kill you,” he said. “Not after you told me about those time-ghosts. I led you up the forest path in red armour beautifully, didn’t I? How did you like my hologram Iron Guardian? Convinced you, didn’t he, Jonathan? Hand over that Gold Casket and I won’t shoot you.”

  “We haven’t got it,” said Vivian. “The Watcher wouldn’t let us near it.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” Leon said, moving the gun menacingly a fraction, from Jonathan to Vivian.

  “We’re not,” Jonathan said. His face had gone bluish again and he looked like death. “I swear! What do you want it for?”

  “Because it’s the most powerful thing in the world after the Lead Casket,” Leon said, “and it’s clear nobody’s going to find that. The people who sent me here to look after the Time City end of things told me a bit much for their own good—just like you did, Jonathan my boy! It must be my frank open face that does it!” He laughed, in another flash of white teeth. Then his face went straight and pitiless. “Where’s that Gold Casket?”

  “We haven’t got it!” they both said. Vivian added, “Guides’ Honour!” She had a slow sick feeling, because she knew Leon was going to shoot them whatever they said. He was working himself up to it, because they knew too much about him. It seemed queer that it was going to happen here, in the sunlit marble gallery, with Elio’s museum cases lined up on either side. He’s going to break a lot of glass! she thought.

  “Very well then,” Leon said, not believing them. “Both of you turn out your pockets. And hand over that time-egg first. I can use one of those.”

  Vivian numbly pulled her pocket inside out and held out the piece of seaweed chew that was in it. Jonathan looked at the egg in his hand and, in a dazed sort of way, held that out too. There seemed nothing else to do.

  There was a scutter of shoelaces from the end of the gallery. Sam’s voice boomed along it. “You rats! You did go without me!”

  Leon jumped—they all jumped—and Leon swung round. As soon as he moved, there was another movem
ent, so fast that it was blurred, from among the museum cases behind him. Someone leapt from crouching there and hurled himself on Leon. The next moment, Elio’s left arm was across Leon’s throat in a strangling grip, and Elio’s right hand was crunched round Leon’s hand with the gun in it. Elio’s face looked calmly over Leon’s shoulder, beside Leon’s furious frightened one. “Will one of you please remove the gun from his hand?” he asked politely.

  Jonathan looked about to faint, so Vivian did it. While she worked the weapon carefully loose from Leon’s white, crushed fingers, Sam came up and stared. “What’s going on?” he said. He had not yet got over the butter-pies. His face was quite yellow. There was not much to choose between Sam and Jonathan at that moment, Vivian thought, and ridiculously, as the gun came loose, she thought of a way to teach Sam a lesson.

  But that was for later. “What do I do with this?” she said, pointing the gun uncertainly at Leon in a way that made Leon give a choking sound and shut his eyes.

  Elio swung Leon round sideways in order to unwrap his arm from Leon’s neck and take the gun away from her. He dug it into Leon’s back. “Keep very still!” he warned him. “Who is this man?” he said to Vivian. “Why is he doing this?”

  “Leon Hardy. He’s a student,” Jonathan said, in a faint, wretched voice. “I—I went and told him far too much.”

  Leon grinned slightly at that. Elio noticed. “Then we had better get him out of the way at once,” he said. “I take it that none of you wish the Sempitern or Patrol Chief Donegal to be made aware of these events?”

  “No!” they all said together, and Sam said it even more devoutly than Leon.

  Leon, in fact, looked quite happy. He must have thought that Elio was going to let him go. But his face changed when Elio politely asked Vivian to open the chained door. When Elio bundled him through into the passage, Leon braced his feet and said, “What’s this?” Then he tried to dive back through the door again. But Elio kept hold of his wrist and dug the gun into him and pushed him on down the passage as if he had not noticed Leon move. He stopped in front of the blocked-up archway. “Will you open this, please,” he said to Vivian. “A kick on the third stone from the left three courses up will do it.”

  Vivian kicked the stone and the false wall pivoted round. The sight of the two dark openings was too much for Leon. “What are you going to do?” he cried out. “Take me underground and shoot me?” And as Elio pushed him towards the nearest opening he yelled, “No, no no!” and braced his feet again.

  Elio took no notice. He simply forced the yelling, kicking Leon through the slit and followed him in. Vivian had not realised how strong Elio was. Leon was taller than Elio, with brawny muscles rippling out all over him, but Elio handled him as if he was the same size as Sam. In the midst of the struggle, he somehow found time to switch on a very strong light from his belt. Then he dragged and bundled the yelling Leon down the spiral stairs.

  As Vivian followed the light downwards, with Sam behind her and Jonathan behind Sam, they could hear Leon bracing his feet on the walls and trying to hang on to the ceiling, but the light kept moving remorselessly downwards. “Let me go! Don’t shoot me! I’ll do anything you want!” Leon yelled.

  “Then tell me who the people were who sent you to Time City,” Elio’s voice said calmly.

  There was a short silence. “I can’t do that,” Leon’s voice said pathetically. “He’s learnt things—from the Mind Wars. My brain won’t let me.” And a moment later, he screamed, “It’s true! I can’t! I swear!”

  “But you have a secret time-lock,” Elio’s voice rang up. “Where is that?”

  “I can’t tell you that either!” Leon’s voice yelled. “Let me go!”

  “Maybe I believe you,” Elio’s voice came up. “But I do not believe you are from Hundred and One Century as your dress suggests.”

  “No, no—I’m from Sixty-six Century,” Leon babbled. It was clear he was glad to tell the things he could tell. “I was a student in Helsinki, studying History and Holographics. There. I’ve told you all about myself. You needn’t take me down here to shoot—Why! That’s their secret time-lock!”

  They had obviously reached the bottom. Vivian slid hurriedly down and round the huge old stairs and sat on the last one, with Sam and Jonathan staring over her shoulders. Elio had let Leon go and Leon was backed against the wall. The lurid light glittered on the gun and shone smoothly off the egg-shaped control Elio had in his other hand. It was like the one Jonathan was still holding, except that it looked a little smaller and seemed to be a reddish colour.

  “This is indeed a time-lock,” Elio agreed. The flickering slate vanished and a strong smell of manure blew in their faces. It seemed to be a rather primitive place beyond the slate. They could see a stack of old wooden barrels beside a patchily plastered wall, some washing blowing on a line and a carefully trained creeper overhead with unripe grapes dangling from it. A goat wandered into view and peered through the opening at Elio curiously. “You have a choice,” Elio said to Leon. “You can go through this lock or you can be shot. Which do you choose?”

  Leon gestured rather hopelessly towards the goat. “Where is that place?” he said. “When is it?”

  “It is Fifteen Century,” Elio said. “The location is a farmyard near a small place in Italy called Vinci.”

  “But that’s primitive!” Leon protested. “And it’s an Unstable Era! And I hate goats! You can’t mean you’re going to strand me there!”

  “Then you would rather be shot,” Elio said, and trained the gun very precisely on Leon’s heart.

  “No, no! I’m going through now!” Leon said. He jumped hurriedly into the farmyard, where he landed with a squelch. They had a last sight of the goat turning to stare at him, before Elio used his control-egg again and the wall turned back into flickering slate.

  Elio turned away, looking satisfied. “That disposes of him,” he said, “most tidily. Forgive me that I allowed him to threaten you for so long. He had the gun hidden in his clothing while he approached the door, and when I saw he had it, I could not readily see how to attack him without causing him to shoot you. It was fortunate that Master Samuel interrupted.”

  A proud grin spread over Sam’s face. “But why did you send him to that farm?” he said.

  “Because,” said Elio, “an amusing thought struck me as soon as you told me his name.” He stuck the gun in his belt and gestured politely to the stairs. They all found themselves obediently getting up and climbing the steps. Elio followed them. “I instantly recalled,” he said, “a certain Italian from Fifteen Century, named Leonardo da Vinci. That man was always considered to have ideas far ahead of his own time, and it occurred to me that this must be the reason for it. Master Leon may well feel a little out of place where he has gone, but I assure you he will make his mark there. I knew he was a genius the moment I viewed the hologram he termed the Iron Guardian.”

  “What else do you know about?” Jonathan said, weary and subdued, from up in front.

  Elio seemed not to have heard. He did not say anything else until they had all squeezed past the false wall into the passage. Then, as he swung the door shut, he said, “I believe we must talk. Will you all please come to my room?”

  They followed him obediently, out of the passage and into the gallery. There Elio opened a door between two of the display cases and led them into the back parts of the Palace where Vivian had never been. She felt rather as if she was at school, being taken to the Headmaster in disgrace. Jonathan and Sam trudged after her, obviously feeling much the same. Elio opened a door and ushered them in.

  It was a large room on the ground floor, looking out on to a narrow strip of garden behind the Chronologue. Elio must have had it for the whole hundred years he had been in Time City. The furniture in it was a wild mixture of styles and colours and on top of every bit of furniture there were things. Vivian stared at a pink empty-frame desk with a statue of Frankenstein’s monster on it. Then her eyes shifted to a thing like a cakes
tand, loaded with clutter. The thing on the top shelf was a golden hat full of padlocks and marbles. Next shelf down was a jar labelled Moon Dust (Titan). Her eyes went to a model spaceship hanging from the ceiling and then to a screen on the wall showing a cartoon film without the sound. She looked again and saw the film was Snow White.

  “Oh! Can you get that here?” she cried out.

  “Certainly, miss,” Elio said, going over to his automat. It was a vast object, with three times more pipes and gold paint than Jonathan’s. “Time City has copies of every film that was ever made. You need merely request Whilom Tower to relay you whichever one you want.”

  Vivian began to feel like Sam at the prospect of a butter-pie orgy. “Oh, I love films!” she said.

  “I too,” Elio said. “I have a special preference for cartoons and horror films—but you must allow me also to introduce you to the chariot-race episode from a film called Ben Hur. That ranks high with me.” He came away from the automat and politely passed her a frothy, fruity drink. He handed Jonathan another. “This is a stimulant,” he said. “I judge you need it. Please sit down.” He turned to Sam. “I am not sure what to prescribe for you.”

  “Nothing, thanks,” Sam said hastily. His face was still an unhealthy yellow.

  They found seats by clearing dolls and motor tyres and paintings off some of the empty-frames and padded sofas. Jonathan found a set of false teeth just where he was going to sit down. He gave them a long dubious look before he collapsed into the opposite corner of the sofa. “How long have you known about that time-lock?” he said.