by Perrin Briar
“No. They would put pressure on the broken piece and destroy it.”
“Can we melt the pieces down and re-forge them?”
“There is no heat capable of melting these pieces. We could put them in the centre of the sun and they wouldn’t melt.”
“Then I’m all out of ideas,” Elian said, face red with consternation. “I’m going for a walk.”
“No, Elian,” Jera said. “Stay. We need to think about this.”
“Let him go,” Grandfather Time said. “A hot head never solves anything.”
Chapter Forty-One
Elian marched down the corridor, head down, not bothering to look where he was going. He bumped into a Tangent, who said nothing, but glared at him as he passed. He turned down into a tunnel that was less busy.
There was a single Tangent with a hand pressed against the wall. His head was tilted up in concentration. The roots in his arm wriggled like worms, delicately touching up an engraving. Elian grumbled under his breath as he paced back and forth.
“RELAX,” the Tangent said. “YOU’RE GOING TO WEAR THE FLOOR OUT. COME LOOK AT THESE ENGRAVINGS. IT’LL HELP YOU CALM DOWN.”
Elian shook his head.
“No, thank you,” he said.
“ARE YOU SURE? THEY ARE QUITE MASTERFUL.”
Elian took a deep breath and approached the wall. The roots from the Tangent’s hand brushed the excess dirt away. The engraving showed a Tangent underground, providing nutrients to flowers that grew aboveground.
“IT TELLS THE STORY OF A TANGENT’S PURPOSE DOWN HERE,” the Tangent engraver said. “SOMETIMES IT’S EASY TO FORGET, AND WE NEED TO BE REMINDED OF ALL THE GOOD WE’RE DOING.”
Elian moved to the next engraving. It showed a robed figure handing a shiny object to a Tangent.
“THIS ONE DEPICTS THE DAY OUR PEOPLE WERE ENTRUSTED WITH A TREASURE FROM AN ANCIENT RACE,” the Tangent said, voice full of pride. “AMONG ALL OTHERS, WE WERE CHOSEN.”
Elian moved to the engraving at the far end of the wall. It showed a tree with a Tangent curled up within the womb of its roots.
“What’s this one about?” Elian said.
“THAT’S THE BIRTH OF A TANGENT,” the Tangent engraver said. “NOT MANY ARE CHOSEN FROM THEIR RESPECTIVE SPECIES. IT’S SEEMINGLY RANDOM, BUT AN EQUAL NUMBER OF MEMBERS FROM EVERY CULTURE ABOVEGROUND ARE DOWN HERE.”
Elian moved closer and stared at the image.
“How are they chosen?” he said.
“THEY BEGIN TO SHOW SIGNS. I WAS FIFTEEN WHEN I BEGAN DEVELOPING THEM. PATCHES OF SKIN TURN HARD AND COARSE. THE PEOPLE IN THE CAPITAL OSTRACISED ME, THINKING THEY WOULD CATCH IT. THE FORCE SENT ME AWAY TO DIE IN THE WILDERNESS, AND I DID, IN A WAY. BUT I WAS REBORN DOWN HERE. AND SO OUR CURSE BECOMES OUR SALVATION.”
“What happened to you?”
“I TURNED INTO A TREE. I WAS A TREEMAN. WE ALL WERE.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Grandfather Time led Elian, Jera and Puca through the underground catacombs. They had taken so many lefts and rights Elian couldn’t keep track. But at that moment he couldn’t keep track even if they were walking in a straight line. His palms were sweaty and his mouth felt dry. He couldn’t keep a single coherent thought in his head.
They had come to a wide corridor that stretched off into the distance, seemingly without end. Along the walls on either side were Tangents. They stood shoulder to shoulder, their feet rooted into the ground. Their arms were placed on the walls, their hands joined with the earth. Something came up from the ground, swelling the roots in their feet, legs, back, shoulders and arms, and then into the soil at their hands.
“This is the feeding chamber,” Grandfather Time said. “This is where they draw energy up from the earth and redistribute it to the plant life on the surface. Every Tangent here has been a Tangent for less than twenty years.”
He turned and looked at Elian, his expression softening.
“If she’s anywhere, she’ll be here,” Grandfather Time said.
Elian hesitated, and then stepped forward. He moved down the never-ending line of Tangents, looking at each of them in turn. Some he dismissed straight away, having come from another species. But he inspected each human shape, moving in front of them to study their faces. The Tangents were too focused on what they were doing to notice him. After looking at over a hundred he stopped and shook his head.
“I’ll never recognise her,” he said, his voice trembling. “They all look the same.”
“They’re not all the same,” Grandfather Time said. “I’ve been down here long enough to notice there are differences. You must keep looking.”
Elian took a deep breath and continued on with his search. There was a single low gong that reverberated through the walls making the fine dirt particles on the floor shiver. The Tangents blinked and disconnected their arms and legs from the earth. Their movements were slow and groggy, their eye holes drooped till they were almost closed.
“What’s happening?” Jera said.
“It’s the end of their shift,” Grandfather Time said. “They’re leaving to go rest.”
The Tangents filtered down the corridor past them, and out. As they passed, Elian caught a glimpse of each of their faces. He got buffeted side to side by the large lumbering bodies.
“It’s no good!” Elian said. “She’s not here! She’s not-”
Then he saw something; a familiar movement of the hands that then perched on the hips, and a warm smile that twisted up higher on one side more than the other. He was staring at a Tangent who was chatting to a group of Tangents. Elian drifted closer, not hearing a word of their conversation.
Up close, he could see the soft, delicate features of her face, and the wide hips and shoulders that had made her a handy addition to a lumberjack crew. She hadn’t yet seen him. Elian swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Mother?” he said.
The Tangent conversation petered out. They all turned to look at Elian, who didn’t remove his eyes from the Tangent he’d singled out. Her eyes took him in, and Elian was trying to figure out what she might have been thinking, and then a slow smile spread across her face. It faded, her expression turning sad. A thick sticky sap-like liquid oozed out the corner of her eyes. She kneeled down and held her arms out. Elian ran to her like a child, rocking her back.
“We all thought you were dead,” Elian said, tears rolling down his cheeks.
She wrapped her arms around him and laughed with delight; a gentle deep booming chuckle. The roots of her body reached out and embraced Elian, forming half a cocoon. They pulled apart. Elian’s mother brushed back Elian’s hair.
“You got big,” she said.
“You got bigger,” Elian said.
Elian’s mother noticed they had company.
“And who’s this?” she said.
“This is Lady Wythnos and Grandfather Time,” Elian said. “We’re on a quest together.”
“Lady? You have gone up in the world.”
She turned to Jera and offered her hand to shake.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear,” she said. “I hope my Elian’s not giving you too much difficulty. If he is, let me know and I’ll sort him out.”
Jera smiled.
“He’s no trouble,” she said. “But you can cuff him a few times, if you like.”
Elian’s mother smiled and turned back to Elian.
“I like her,” she said. “She’s a keeper. How are your father and brother?”
Elian looked at the floor.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t seen them for a while.”
“Well, you should know. Make sure to visit them when all this is over.”
“Why didn’t you contact us?” Elian said.
“I have been, in the way all Tangents can,” she said. “I ensure the trees around our HOME grow strong, AND the flowers smell sweet for bees to harvest and make honey.”
“But we had no word from you.”
“Tangents are forbidde
n to contact their families and friends on the surface.”
“But why?”
“Tangents are not supposed to get involved with the goings-on up above. To stay safe, we remain secret. It’s the only way TO ENSURE WE DO not get involved.”
Elian smiled and hugged his mother again.
“It’s so good to see you,” he said.
“I’m sorry to interrupt this beautiful moment,” Grandfather Time said. “But we rather urgently need your help.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Only Puca in his goat form did not struggle to keep up with Elian’s mother’s long strides.
“I thought Tangents don’t get involved with affairs aboveground?” Elian said.
“WE DON’T,” Elian’s mother said. “BUT THE ELDERS OUGHT TO KNOW BETTER THAN TO DENY YOU THE THIRD PIECE!”
She wore a frown deep with creases, which would have been terrifying if it had been aimed at them.
“We need you to make a tunnel so we can get into the hidden room,” Elian said.
“I’M GOING TO MAKE A TUNNEL, ALL RIGHT,” Elian’s mother said. “I’M GOING TO MARCH RIGHT INTO THE ELDERS’ COUNCIL ROOM AND-”
“They won’t listen to you, Mother,” Elian said. “The only way to succeed is for us to go straight to the hidden room.”
“NO ONE BUT THE ELDERS KNOWS WHERE IT IS.”
“I found some ancient scrolls many years ago,” Grandfather Time said. “They indicated where the room might be.”
Elian’s mother looked uncertain.
“HOW MUCH FAITH DO YOU PUT IN THESE SCROLLS OF YOURS?” she said.
“Compared to requesting aid from the elders? A lot.”
Elian’s mother was silent a moment.
“LET’S TRY,” she said. “IF IT DOESN’T WORK, THEN WE’LL GO TO THE ELDERS.”
They came to the unadorned stretch of wall opposite the waterfall. Tangents moved up and down the busy area in uniformed rows. Elian’s mother placed her hands on the wall. Her roots sank deep into the soil.
“I FEEL SOMETHING THERE…” she said. “BUT IT’S FAINT. IF ANYTHING’S THERE, IT’S A LONG WAY AWAY. IT’S CLEVER OF THEM TO PUT IT HERE. ALL TUNNELLING IS PROHIBITED IN THE CITY CENTRE.”
“Can you do it?” Elian said.
“YES,” Elian’s mother said. “I THINK SO. BUT WE’LL HAVE TO BE QUICK. AS SOON AS SOMEONE NOTICES I’VE LET YOU IN, THE ELDERS WILL BE INFORMED.”
“I don’t want you to get into trouble,” Elian said.
“I wouldn’t have to if those old fools let you have the third piece like they WERE SUPPOSED TO. Don’t worry about me. You focus on saving the world.”
She stopped, smiled, and shook her head.
“My son,” she said with more than a hint of pride. “Saving the world.”
“How much longer do we have left?” Grandfather Time said.
Elian checked his watch.
“Two days,” he said. “Plenty of time.”
“Don’t say that,” Grandfather Time said. “Not until we’re in the clocktower and we’ve fixed it.”
Elian’s mother assumed a wide stance and put her hands to the wall. The roots in her hands and feet stabbed into the earth. Her eyes hardened and she frowned with intense concentration. The earth in the wall began to shift, forming a hole. It fell away and became a tunnel. It opened, and then stretched farther and farther away. Finally it stopped, a faint glimmer of light at the far end. The activity had garnered the attention of the Tangents on the road. They stopped and stared.
“WE MUST HURRY,” Elian’s mother said.
They ran down the tunnel, the glint of light at the end growing larger. A few metres from the end their feet threw up splashes of water. Panting and out of breath, they emerged into the room at the end. A thick film of water ran down the walls and coalesced on the floor. Their feet sloshed as they entered the room. Elian’s mother turned and closed the tunnel.
Moonlight filtered in from a hole in the roof, alighting on a pedestal in the centre of the room. Upon it sat a box. Grandfather Time approached the box with reverence. He paused, looking back at Elian and Jera.
“May I?” he said.
Elian and Jera nodded. Grandfather Time put his hands on the box. There was an inch of dust on the top. He wiped it off. On the top was the embossed image of a golden cog. His shoulders relaxed upon feeling the history in his hands. He pushed back the box’s lid and, astonished, stepped back. He laughed. It began as a chuckle and grew into high-pitched maniacal laughter.
Elian looked over his shoulder to peer inside the box. It was empty.
Chapter Forty-Four
Dr Slyman stood with his hands behind his back in the middle of the empty room.
“Where are your assistants?” Gregory said.
“I wanted a private word with you. About the clock. When I was young I grew up in a small village on the outskirts of the Capital. Every summer a travelling man came and performed for the village folk.
“He performed all the usual tricks: pulling animals out of hats, finding coins in ears, picking certain cards. The usual tricks. But then he would choose someone from the village and ask them to turn their back to him and think of an image. He would draw a picture in the dirt with a stick, and when the person turned around, they were always shocked that the travelling man had got it exactly right. I could figure out all the other tricks, but not that one. I assumed he’d made some kind of deal with those he chose before coming to the village. When I questioned them, they always said he hadn’t, but I didn’t believe them.
“Then one day the travelling man chose me, and he performed the same trick. I thought of the most difficult image I could – of a vista view of the valley on a perfect day. I could hear his stick in the dirt behind me. He seemed to be there for hours. I was desperate to turn around and I cursed myself for trying to be so clever. And then he finally told me to turn around, and I was shocked. He’d got every detail right.
“After he packed away his things I went to him and asked him how he did it. I told him I’d spent years trying to figure out his trick, but had always failed. He smiled at me and said: ‘That’s your problem. You were thinking with your head. Some things in this world cannot be explained with our mind, but with our heart.’
“And he left. That was the day I decided to be a scientist – to prove him wrong. To prove that everything can be explained if we approach it in a rational way. I’ve done well in my career. I’ve explained many things, but I still can’t explain that trick, and I can’t explain this clock.”
“What are you telling me?” Gregory said. “That this clock performs tricks?”
“In a way. On the surface it appears to be just a regular clock, but there are elements within the clocktower itself, the cogs and wheels and springs that do much more than just count the time.”
“What do they do?”
The man licked his lips.
“They do something no one in this world can understand,” he said.
“What do they do?” Gregory said.
“Well, sir, we’re not quite sure yet, but it appears as though it somehow not only tells the time, but controls it.”
“How does it control time?”
“We don’t know, sir. It is beyond our level of technology.”
“Then backward engineer it.”
“I’m sorry sir, but that’s not possible.”
“Do it, or I’ll get someone else.”
“They won’t be able to do it either. They may try, but they will not succeed. It is an impossible task. You might as well try to backward engineer the wind, or sunlight or nature. These things simply are. During my career in science I have tried to explain the concepts of nature. I have been fortunate in that some I have unlocked, but others remain beyond my grasp. Why don’t we leave some things as unexplainable? Leave a little mystery in the world?”
The clock hand’s shadows flickered from one position to another on the floor. Gregory looked up at the clock face. A bright light
flashed. The sun was probably poking its head out from behind a long stream of clouds.
“Mystery?” Gregory said. “And I thought you were a scientist! If I wanted mystery I’d try to figure out how a woman’s mind works. No, I want to understand how this clock works. I want it fixed, so I can use it and control it myself. What other ideas do you have to fix it?”
“Honestly, sir. Nothing. The amount of pressure being put upon these few cogs and pieces of clockwork is unlike anything I have ever seen before. Frankly, without replacement parts there is no way to fix this clock.”
“Have you read the journals?”
“Most of them, yes. But there are a few left.”
“Continue to study them.”
Dr Slyman hung his head.
“Yes, my lord,” he said.
There were shouts from somewhere outside. And then hurried footsteps echoing up the spiral staircase. A young woman in her late twenties emerged. She wore a white headscarf and had a look of terror on her face.
“Fire!” she said. “There’s a fire!”
A stunned silence answered her. Gregory looked up at the clock face and noticed the time was 7:30pm. The sun would have set by now, so what was causing the shadows to flicker? Then Gregory noticed which direction the light was coming from.
“No…” he said.
The word was a breathy gasp. Gregory ran for the door, knocking the woman aside, and took the stairs three, four, five at a time. The closer he got to ground level the stronger the smell of burning wood became. He emerged out and onto the street.
Carriages stood stock still, though the horses whinnied and trotted sideways away from the orange glow over the warehouse buildings. People on the street looked up and pointed at the lick of flames from the dock. Gregory could feel the rapid pulse of his heart in his chest.
A cold sweat broke over his whole body. He ran across the street, paying no mind to the muddy gunk that sucked at his boots. He ran down the stairs to the dock front.
The flames rose like a giant cobra from the burning hull of New Dawn, coiling and biting and snapping in all directions, and to Gregory’s horror the flames were dyed a deep purple from its cargo. A man Gregory recognised as a shipman of New Dawn lay on the quay clutching his leg, while a doctor was busy cutting the fabric of his trousers off.
