Umber sighed, deep and long. Then he stood and gave Hap a sad, crooked smile, and spread his arms. “Well. Is there anything I should know about my destiny?”
Hap laughed and passed his hand through the brilliant filament that emanated from Umber. “Your adventures aren’t over,” he said.
“Thank the fates for that,” Umber said. He tousled Hap’s hair. “You grew up so suddenly. I never had a son, but it must be just like this. One day you realize he’s not a child anymore. And it happened when you weren’t looking.”
Hap’s green eyes glittered. “Tell the others I will miss them.”
“You’ll come back?”
The mirth drained from Hap’s expression. “Despite all my newfound abilities . . . I honestly don’t know.”
“Well. I can hope.” Umber closed his eyes and embraced his young friend.
And suddenly he was holding nothing at all.
EPILOGUE
Umber blinked at the darkness. He yawned and rolled to his side, swinging his legs out of the bed and onto the cool stone floor. It was nowhere near daylight, but nevertheless he shrugged his way into a wooly robe and fumbled for the spectacles he kept at the side of his bed. When he pulled the cloth off his jar of glimmer-worms, soft light oozed out, and he caught a glimpse of his thin gray hair in the mirror, and the wrinkles that creased his skin.
He walked down the stairs of his rebuilt tower, moving gingerly as the blood started to flow through his veins and his aging muscles warmed. He opened the door and stepped onto the terrace. With his head tipped back he caught a whiff of the terrace flowers, and then he breathed deep, drawing in a great lungful of sea-scented air.
There was a moment of darkness as if a great wing had passed across the moon, and a thin, whispery sound. Something shifted at the corner of Umber’s eye. When he turned, the sight caused his knees to quake.
An ancient man stood there, shivering. Wrinkled skin hung loose on his face. He was dressed in clothes that Umber hadn’t seen since his days in his former world: pants made of heavy blue fabric. A zippered coat with a hood hanging down the back. Glasses with black lenses. The names for those things fluttered out of the dustbin of Umber’s mind: Jeans. Hoodie. Sunglasses.
Then he noticed the old fellow’s long, white hair with colors flickering within. As the visitor’s trembling hand came up to remove the sunglasses, Umber knew that a pair of glittering green eyes would be revealed. And they were.
Umber’s mouth trembled and his lips curled inward. He stared at the face—a countenance worn by time, and a portrait of utter exhaustion. Finally he recognized the faint reminders of the boy he’d known. He forced out a whisper. “Happenstance?”
The sunglasses slipped from the green-eyed man’s hand and struck the stone with a plastic clatter. The long-forgotten sound stirred Umber’s memory.
“Hap, is that really you?”
The ancient man’s eyelids fluttered and his knees buckled. He looked around him for a place to put his hand and brace himself as he lost his balance. Umber rushed over and wrapped his arms around the visitor. For a long time they stood there, with the man’s head resting on Umber’s shoulder.
“My friend,” Umber said, patting the ancient man on the back. “You’ve come back at last. It really is you, isn’t it?” He felt the pressure against his shoulder as Happenstance nodded. The strength in Hap’s legs failed, and Umber eased him down. They sat on the terrace floor with Hap leaning heavily against Umber’s side.
There were so many questions to ask. Umber fumbled for words. “Hap, you were gone so long. It was thirty years in this world . . . but many more for you, wasn’t it?”
Happenstance swallowed, and his throat bobbed. A faint smile appeared, and he finally spoke in a dry whisper. “Well. About that. Couldn’t come . . . any sooner. You can’t imagine the responsibility. That world—so much more populous, so much more complex. Never found a moment when I could leave. If I did, I would lose track of all those threads, all those possibilities.”
“Of course,” Umber said, squeezing Hap’s shoulder.
Hap clutched Umber’s hand. “May I call you Father? Because that is how I thought of you all those years, when I wandered through your world. As my father.”
“I would like that very much,” Umber said with a sniffle. It was so strange speaking to a Happenstance who was older than him. “Hap. It must have been so hard, and you were just a boy. How could I have asked so much of you? I’m so sorry.”
Hap wagged his head from side to side. “Sorry? Never. I don’t regret a thing. Of course, it was difficult. For each crisis I turned aside, a new challenge grew in its place. There were momentous decisions to make. Should a million die so ten million will not meet a worse fate? Should a generation suffer so a better nation can be born? Should a wicked man live so a greater villain does not take his place? Those were my choices. That was my existence. But it was filled with the kind of meaning that others only dream about. I had the chance to make a better world—just as you did here. I could have walked away long before I did. But I grew to love what I was doing. And so I stayed, until I felt I could leave.”
Umber leaned closer and spoke quietly. “So you did it after all.”
Hap nodded. “Father, how would you describe the world you knew as a young man?”
Umber scratched his temple. “Messy. Far from perfect. Full of marvels. But marred by intolerance and misunderstanding.”
The nod grew stronger. “It’s still messy,” Hap said. “Still marred. But it’s still there, Father. Still there.”
Umber leaned back and allowed himself a sad smile. “You really did it. Rescued an entire civilization.” His eyebrows rose. “And the woman that Willy Nilly wanted to save?”
Hap’s eyes were half closed. “She lived for a long time, an ordinary person with an ordinary life. Nobody ever heard of her. And she found something like happiness.”
“Willy would have been glad to hear of it.”
Hap shrugged. “I saved her only to keep my promise. It was your mission that mattered.” His eyes rolled up, and his head bobbed. “What’s the matter with me now? Father, I think I could use some of that coffee you loved so much. I became fond of it in my later years.”
Umber chuckled and shook his head. “Would you believe I don’t have any? I can’t touch the stuff anymore. It does unspeakable things to my digestive tract.”
“Shame,” Hap said, and the strength left his body, and he sagged against Umber’s shoulder.
“Hap?” Umber said.
Happenstance did not answer, and did not move.
“Hap?” Umber said again, giving him a little shake. His voice rose and cracked. “Hap!”
Hap’s eyes fluttered open. With his head sunk deep in his pillow, his gaze turned right and left, taking in his surroundings, and finally settled on Umber, who watched him from a chair next to the bed.
“Your new tower?” Hap asked.
“Took a while, but we rebuilt things pretty well,” Umber replied.
Hap frowned and rubbed the inner corners of his eyes. “What just happened to me, Father?”
Umber leaned toward the bed with his elbows on his knees. “Don’t you know? You fell asleep, Happenstance. For quite a while.”
Hap laughed and closed his dazzling green eyes. “So that was sleep. It was a pleasant thing after all. Floating in a warm oblivion. The mind finally at rest.”
“Nobody ever deserved it more. Did you dream, Hap?”
Hap opened his eyes again and clasped his hands behind his head. “Ah. Those visions while I slept. Yes, I finally know what it is to dream. I saw my old friends, the ones who lived here. They were always in my thoughts while I meddled in your world. Tell me about them.”
Umber smiled. “Of course. But . . . don’t you already know their fates?”
“I could find their filaments and read them. But . . .
I’ve spent a lifetime doing that, in the other world. It would make me happy now if you just t
old me.”
“Then I will, of course. Who would you like to hear about first?”
“Your artist and archer. Sophie.”
“Ah, Sophie,” Umber said. “She is still the artist for my books. And do you remember the young man who turned out to be your brother? Eldon Penny?”
Happenstance nodded.
“If you recall, I found a position for Eldon in one of my shipping offices in another port. He turned out to be a very talented fellow—made an excellent reputation for himself. Eldon came back to Kurahaven a few years later, a changed man with a healed heart. Clever, confident, and kind. When he and Sophie met, it wasn’t a week before they were deeply in love. And they remain so to this day.”
A smile took root on Happenstance’s face. “And there was the strong man who was compelled to speak the truth. Tell me about him. Did he ever escape from that curse?”
“Oates,” Umber said, chuckling. “No, the cure for him was never found. But a few years after you left I went to a tavern with Welkin, Barkin, and Dodd—perhaps you remember them, my personal guard. While we were there a barmaid tossed a mug of ale into a sailor’s face and sent him out the door with a kick in the hindquarters. She called him a liar and shouted that all men were liars, and that if she ever met a truly honest one, she’d marry him on the spot. I told Dodd to get to the Aerie as fast as his horse would take him and fetch Oates. And that is how Oates met his wife.”
“And is Oates still with you?”
“Sleeping downstairs, I imagine. His wife cares for the Aerie now. Would you like to see him?”
Happenstance shook his head. “No. I have their faces now in my mind, now that we’ve talked of them. I want to remember them that way. As I knew them.” He sat up in bed and stretched his arms. “The sleep did me wonders. I haven’t felt so good in years. Now . . . the woman who rode the leviathan barge. Tell me about Nima.”
“Still my dear friend, and willing to take me wherever I ask to go.”
Happenstance narrowed his eyes, concentrating. “Balfour,” he finally said, more a statement than a question.
Umber stared out the window. “Dead and gone for many years, I’m afraid. As is little Thimble.”
Happenstance bowed his head, and after a long silence he lifted it again. “And you, Umber. Have you been well?”
“I have. You know, Fay came to me the night you disappeared, and she never left. We were as happy as two can be for many years. And her niece Sable became a physician, and a great one at that.” Umber’s mouth twisted. “I lost Fay two years ago.”
“Ah,” Happenstance said, wincing. “And were there more adventures for you after I moved on?”
Umber chuckled softly. “I’ve had the time of my life. And you know, after Loden died, Celador did what all kingdoms do: It replaced him with the nearest living relative. The new king isn’t a bad fellow, and he’s allowed me a reasonable amount of progress.”
Hap swung his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet, bouncing with a newfound strength. “I really do feel refreshed!” He reached out and waved his hand in front of Umber’s chest. His green eyes shimmered and twinkled.
“I’m not sure I want to know what you’re seeing,” Umber said.
Hap reached out for Umber’s wrist. “Come with me, Father.”
“Go with you?” Umber said. “To where?”
Hap stared back into Umber’s eyes.
“To my old world?” Umber asked. His voice was quiet and hoarse.
“To the new world that I’ve made of your old world. You don’t have to be afraid for your mind; the trip won’t drive you mad. In fact it will undo the troubles that have plagued you since you arrived. And aren’t you curious?”
Umber kneaded his chin with his fingers. “You know me, Happenstance. I am forever curious.”
“Then come with me. We are old men now, you and I. But there is still time to share one great adventure.”
Umber gulped. He took a deep breath and lowered his head. “I knew you’d come back someday, Happenstance. I didn’t think it would take this long. But I was sure I’d see you again.” He lifted his face, and his cheeks were damp. “And I have to tell you . . . I’ve had the feeling lately that my days here might be coming to an end. Yes, I’ll go with you. But there is something I’d like to do first, with your help.”
“Of course,” Hap said.
“Wait here,” Umber said. He stepped out of the room. When he returned he was fully dressed and had a wooden crate under his arm. He pulled a note from his pocket and placed it on the table beside the bed. Hap looked down at the first words: Dear friends. This may come as a surprise. Or maybe nothing I do surprises you anymore . . .
“Now, then. Let’s go,” Umber said.
The wind made Umber’s long coat flutter as they stood atop a great palace in a distant land. Umber pried the lid off the crate. Inside was a stack of papers. He slid his hands down the sides and pulled out as many of the sheets as he could hold between his thumb and fingers. “I had these printed up years ago, to be distributed upon my death,” Umber said. “But this is so much better, doing it myself!” He flung the papers over his head. The wind lofted them high and scattered them far across the rooftops below. Umber whooped with delight.
“What do they say?” Hap asked as the pages floated and soared.
“They speak of freedom for all people. The rights that every man, woman, and child ought to enjoy. I must admit, I stole the words shamelessly from several famous documents in my world’s history. Now, Hap, there are a few more kingdoms I’d like to litter with these. Can we move on to Fenn now?”
Hap put a hand on Umber’s shoulder. An instant later they stood atop the wall that surrounded Fenn’s greatest city, and Umber flung his parchments to the wind. Umber named more places in more lands across the known world, and Hap took him there, until finally the box was empty. Hap gripped Umber by the forearm again, and at last they stood on the hill above Kurahaven, shaking off the chill.
“Are you ready now?” Hap said.
“You’re really taking me back to the world I knew?”
“Yes. But you may not know it so well anymore.”
Umber scrunched his features and tapped the side of his head with his palm. “It’s all so baffling, Happenstance. If you changed the course of history, why do I remember it as it was? And if my civilization was never destroyed, and I never escaped to this world, why am I here at all?”
Hap raised his hands and smiled. “That is a question not even a Meddler can answer. But now it’s time to see this new world you made possible.”
Umber cleared his throat and shifted his feet. He looked down at the great arches and columns of the city, and the Rulian Sea twinkling under the stars, and the Aerie, tiny from this distance.
“And then,” Hap said, “when you have seen it, we will journey forward. That is how you and I will spend the time we have left. Alighting across the centuries like birds on branches.”
Umber’s eyes grew wide, and a smile spread on his face. “How far into the future?”
“As far as can be.” Hap stared into the heavens, beholding the passage that Umber couldn’t see. “All Meddlers are drawn to it, Umber. It grows stronger with the years until we can no longer resist. I ache to see it. The end of time.”
“The end of time,” Umber repeated. His voice was mellow with awe. “But what is the end of time, Hap? Is it our sun devouring the earth as it swells? Is it the galaxies colliding? Is it the cosmos cooling until everything is frozen and dead? Is it the universe collapsing on itself, only to reignite and expand again? Or is it something we can’t even imagine, something out of myth?”
“There is,” Happenstance replied, “only one way to be certain.” He locked elbows with Umber.
“Wait!” Umber said. “One last look.” He gazed at the vista below. “You know,” he said after a while, “when I scattered those papers? I was a bit of a Meddler myself, wasn’t I?”
Happenstance shrugged. �
��Aren’t we all? Now close your eyes.”
There was a sound like the breath of an infant, and a blush of darkness, and they were gone.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
The End of Time Page 27
