Daemons Are Forever sh-2

by Simon R. Green

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  About Time

  When it came to my using the Time Train, the Inner Circle was right behind me. Fortunately, I was able to shake them off thanks to some fast running, and my superior knowledge of the Hall’s shortcuts and side passages. They really should have known better than to order me not to use the Time Train, under any circumstances. I’ve always had this problem with authority figures, even now that I am one. I left their raised voices behind me, and headed quickly for the rear of the Hall, and the old hangar where the family keeps those past mechanical marvels we have more sense than to try and use nowadays.

  I reached out with my thoughts through my silver torc, and made mental contact with Strange.

  “Hi there!” said Strange. “Did you know the Sarjeant-at-Arms is looking for you? And the rest of your Inner Circle?”

  “The fact has not escaped me,” I said. “I need you to run a diversion for me. You game?”

  “Of course! I could use a little fun. Your family is all very worthy, Eddie, but a lot of them really are very solemn.”

  “Trust me; I had noticed. All right, I need you to broadcast the news that everyone in the family is to get their new torcs. The Inner Circle and I just decided. You still okay with that?”

  “Oh sure; the more the merrier, I say.”

  “Good. Then spread the good news, and tell everyone they need to come to the Sanctity right now.” I grinned. “That should block the corridors nicely, and keep the Circle from interfering with what I’ve got planned.”

  “Oh dear,” said Strange. “Are you about to do something desperate and dangerous again?”

  “Of course. Mind the store while I’m gone, Strange.”

  “Please, call me Ethel.”

  “Over my dead and lifeless body.”

  To my surprise, when I finally got to the rear of the Hall, avoiding the main corridors that were already filling up with cheering family members, Molly was already there waiting for me. She greeted me with a fond embrace and a smug smile.

  “How did you know I was going to be here?” I said.

  “Honestly, sweetie, I am a witch, remember? Sorry it took me so long to get away, but Penny took a lot of talking to. I think I finally managed to beat some sense into her pretty little head. There’s no one more stubborn than a secret romantic. Especially one who’s taken it on herself to redeem the unredeemable.”

  “Has she agreed to stop seeing Mr. Stab?” I said.

  “Well, not as such,” said Molly. “The best I could get out of her was an agreement never to meet with him alone.”

  I nodded reluctantly. “Penny always was stubborn. Runs in the family. Baffles me what she sees in him anyway.”

  “I suppose it’s like those sad, desperate women who want to marry serial killers in prison,” said Molly. “Women always believe they can change a man, bring out the good in him through the power of their love. Some just like more of a challenge, I suppose. And Mr. Stab does have that dark, dangerous, vulnerable thing going for him. I know, I know, don’t look at me like that; I do know he’s been slaughtering and butchering women for over a century… but there is more to him than that, Eddie. I have seen him do … good things. So have you.”

  “He’s Mr. Stab,” I said. “He kills women. That’s what he does. If he hurts Penny…”

  “He won’t,” said Molly. “He’s never hurt a friend of mine.”

  “If he kills her, I’ll kill him. Friend of yours or not.”

  “If it comes to that, I’ll help you,” said Molly. “So, why are we here, Eddie?”

  I gestured at the long steel-and-glass hangar, standing tall and proud at the rear of the Hall, though set a discreet distance away. It was a wide, steel-girdered construction, with an arching glass roof, big enough to hold several football matches in simultaneously. The family never does things by halves, even when it comes to museums hardly anyone visits anymore. I took Molly’s arm in mine and led her towards the open entrance.

  “I’ve located a very useful ally in the future,” I said. “Unfortunately, he’s so far ahead of us that we’re going to have to go and get him in person. And for that, we need the Time Train.”

  “Just the two of us?” said Molly.

  “Well,” I said, “I did ask for volunteers, but the response was disappointing. Apparently everyone else had more sense. Time travel is always dangerous, and no one’s actually used the Time Train in ages. Probably with good reason. It’s not the most… reliable device the family ever built. If you’d prefer to stay behind, I’d quite understand. I’d stay behind if I could find anyone daft enough to go in my place.”

  Molly hugged my arm firmly to her side. “Do you really think I’d let you go anywhere without me?”

  I grinned at her. “I really like this being an item thing.”

  “You romantic devil, you. Flatter me with your silver tongue, why don’t you?”

  “Together, forever,” I said. “How about that?”

  “Forever and ever and ever,” said Molly.

  I led her into the long hangar. It’s a huge place, packed full of all the early technological wonders produced down the ages by family Armourers with a bee in their bonnet. It had to be said: Both the museum and its exhibits had known better days. The inner walls were cracked and discoloured, and dull yellow sunlight fell through glass panels left cloudy and spotted by age and neglect. This was just a storage space now, for things whose time had moved on. Strange and wondrous artefacts that had once been ahead of their time, now overtaken and forgotten.

  Like the 1880s Moon Launch Cannon, only used once. And the oversized Moleship, basically just a steel cabin with a bloody big diamond-studded drill head mounted on the front. It had been constructed to investigate the interior of the earth, back in the days when people still believed in the Hollow Earth theory. The hulking exhibit before us was actually Mole II, built so the family could go looking for whatever had happened to Mole I. In the end it never got used, because we had to fill in and block off the original tunnel after something big and nasty from the lower depths tried to crawl back up it.

  “And we used to have a giant mechanical spider,” I said, leading Molly through the exhibits. “We confiscated it from some American mad genius, back in the Wild West. Not entirely sure what happened to it. I think it ran away.”

  “Boys and their toys,” said Molly, smiling sweetly. “You’ll be boasting about the size of your engines next. Why keep all this stuff if you never use it anymore?”

  “Because the family never lets go of anything that belongs to it,” I said. “Besides, this is history. It’s… interesting. Not to mention instructive. And you never know when you might need something again. Better to have a thing and not need it, than need it and not have it. Like the Time Train… I only remembered it was here because I used to love reading about things like that when I was a kid, and sloping off from my lessons.”

  We weren’t alone in the hangar. A dozen or so men and women in scruffy overalls fussed around various exhibits, tinkering with the machinery or just polishing and cleaning them to within an inch of their lives. None of them looked at us, as long as we were careful to maintain a respectful distance. Molly gestured at them, and raised an eyebrow.

  “Enthusiasts,” I said. “They all volunteer to work here in their spare time. All obsessed with a particular period, or device. They keep the exhibits in order, just for the joy of it. Express the slightest interest in their particular pride and joy, and they’ll talk your ear off.”

  “Now, let me be sure I’ve got this right,” said Molly. “This Time Train you want to use… No one’s actually taken it out of the hangar in ages, it’s pretty damned dangerous even when it’s working properly, and the only guarantee we have it’ll work at all is some dedicated amateur technician? Have I missed anything? You are not filling me with confidence here, Eddie.”

  By now we’d reached the Time Train, and the sheer size of the thing dwarfed all the other exhibits. The Time T
rain itself was a big, black, old-fashioned steam engine, gleaming and glistening like the night, with luxurious silver and brass fittings, all of them buffed and polished to a cheery warm glow. Haifa dozen luxury Pullman coaches, in the familiar milk chocolate and cream livery, stretched away behind the coal tender. A quick peek through the coaches’ curtained windows revealed a whole other world of seats and fittings whose quality would have shamed the Orient Express in its heyday. The family never did believe in doing things by half. The huge black engine towered over us like a sleeping beast, only waiting to be roused. A tall gangling individual appeared suddenly in the cab and smiled bashfully down at us.

  “Oh hello,” he said. “Visitors, how nice. We don’t get many visitors, old Ivor and me. Ivor is the engine, you see.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I had a hunch it might be. Molly, allow me to present to you the family’s one and only expert steam train engineer: Tony Drood. Latest in a long line of such enthusiasts, right Tony?”

  “Oh yes,” he said, clambering agilely down the gleaming steel ladder on the side of the cab to join us. He had to be in his late fifties, though his hair was still suspiciously jet-black. He wore a set of grubby overalls, and his hands and face were covered with dirty smudges from whatever he’d just been working on. He finally stood before us, smiling and bobbing his head just a bit shyly. “An honour to meet you both, Edwin and Miss Molly. Can’t remember the last time anyone of quality came to see us, eh, Ivor, old thing?”

  He reached up and fondly patted the bulging black steel chamber.

  “Ivor really is very…impressive,” said Molly, and Tony beamed at her as though she’d just taken a thorn out of his paw.

  “Impressive he is indeed, Miss Molly, and that is no lie. I have made it my business to see that he is kept spotless, and in perfect working order, ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

  “Ready to go anywhere, anywhen?” I said. “Even into the far future?”

  “All of time is at your disposal,” said Tony, just a bit grandly. “Ivor can take you back to the dawn of the world, or up any of the future timetracks. You do understand about parallel future histories… of course you do, we’ve all seen Star Trek. Though I always preferred the original series. Where was I? Oh yes, Ivor is fully functional and raring to go! He can do the Kessel run in under five centuries!”

  “He’s still a bit… ancient, though, isn’t he?” said Molly.

  Tony glowered at her. “Do not listen to her, Ivor! She is a philistine, and knows no better. I will have you know, Miss Molly, this engine was built back in the days when they still valued skill and craftsmanship, as well as efficiency. This is no modern soulless device; this is Ivor, the Time Train! A comfortable and civilised way to travel in time. I tell you, Miss Molly, Ivor could still do the family proud, given half a chance.”

  “Funny you should say that, Tony,” I said. “As it turns out, you are in a position to do me and the family a great service. I think it’s well past time Ivor was allowed out for a little trip.”

  Tony grinned so broadly it must have hurt his cheeks, and actually wrung his hands together in his enthusiasm. “Just say the word, Edwin! I’ve waited all my life for a chance to take the old boy out and show what he can do! No one in the family’s authorised use of the Time Train since my grandfather took her out, at the end of the nineteenth century.” His face fell, and he looked at Molly and me just a little guiltily. “An unfortunate business, that… Bit of a disaster all around, really. The last Matriarch but three, Catherine Drood that was, got a bee in her bonnet that one of the Old Ones was waking up, down on some obscure little island in the southern hemisphere. And nothing would do but that grandfather take the newly invented Time Train back into the recent past, with a team of expert specialists, to shut the Old One down before it could properly awaken. Of course it all went horribly wrong. Turned out that it was the energies generated by Ivor’s arrival that woke the Old One up in the first place… One thing led to another, and in the end grandfather and his team had no choice but to blow up the whole damned island to seal the Old One back in its tomb.

  “Krakatoa, the island was called. Anyway, Ivor got all the blame, which was really quite unfair, and he’s been out of favour ever since.”

  “Hold everything,” said Molly. “If no one’s taken the Train out since the nineteenth century, does this mean you’ve never actually driven the thing yourself?”

  “Well, no, not as such,” said Tony. “But I know all I need to know! The care and handling of Ivor is a sacred trust, miss, handed down from father to son for generations. A family within the family, you might say. Rest assured that I have read every one of the manuals, and my grandfather’s journals, and I know all the workings of Ivor inside and out. Don’t you worry, miss! Old Ivor’s just straining at the traces, raring for the off! Aren’t you, old boy!”

  He slapped the black steel familiarly, and Molly and I both jumped a little as Ivor let loose a sudden blast of steam from his funnel, as though in response. Maybe it was. Wouldn’t be the first time the family built something that turned out to have a mind of its own.

  Don’t even get me started about the sentient water cooler that was supposed to know when you were thirsty; drowned three people before we could wrestle it to the ground.

  “Let’s get going,” I said briskly. “Build up your pressure, or whatever it is you need to do, and full steam ahead to the future!”

  Tony looked at me just a bit blankly. “You mean…right now?”

  “No time like the present,” I said. “And…there are a few people who might want to have a word with us before we go, and I really don’t feel like talking to them, so the sooner we can get under way, the better. That isn’t going to be a problem, is it?”

  “Oh no, Edwin! Not at all! In fact, the principles of time travel will allow us to return just a few seconds after we depart, and that way you won’t have to miss out on talking to anyone!”

  “Oh joy,” I said. “Let’s go, Tony.”

  “Say no more, sir!” said Tony, saluting me enthusiastically. He scrambled back up the ladder into the cab, all but exploding with pleasure and nervous energy. This was his moment, his great chance, come round at last, and he couldn’t wait to get under way. I’d rather been counting on that. Anyone just a bit less enthusiastic might have asked a whole bunch of awkward questions, to which I didn’t have any good answers. I felt a bit guilty at taking advantage of Tony, but only a bit. I had too many other things to feel guilty about. I needed the warrior called Deathstalker, the family needed him, and that was all that mattered. Molly and I followed Tony up the narrow steel ladder and into the surprisingly spacious cab. Molly and I stood well back as Tony hurried from one long steel lever to another, throwing them back and forth with infectious enthusiasm and good cheer. Nothing like watching an enthusiast show off at what he does best. He leaned forward to check a row of old-fashioned gauges on the main bulkhead, and tapped a few with a forefinger before turning around to smile brightly.

  “I always maintain a good working head of pressure,” he said proudly. “Partly because it’s good for the boiler, partly just in case the call should ever come… Allow me a few minutes to shovel in some more fuel, and then we can be on our way! Oh yes!”

  “Where are the tracks?” said Molly, leaning dangerously far over the side of the cab before I pulled her back.

  “As I understand it, there aren’t any,” I said. “Ivor travels in time, not space.” I looked at Tony. “You can leave the carriages behind. We won’t be needing them.”

  His face fell. “But…they’re very comfortable! Downright cosy, in fact. Polish the brass every day, I do!”

  “Nevertheless,” I said firmly.

  Tony pouted, and then went back to unhitch the carriages. I took a look at the various gauges, but they meant nothing to me. And yet, I could feel something… a sense of pressure building, of controlled power gathering itself. Standing in Ivor’s cab was like standing in the mouth of a great be
ast as it finally came awake. Tony jumped back into the cab, opened the tender door, and started shovelling what looked very like coal into the open chamber. Molly and I watched for a while.

  “Excuse me,” said Molly, “but… how exactly does building up a head of steam help us to travel in time?”

  “Oh, this isn’t coal, miss,” said Tony, shovelling energetically. “This is crystallised tachyons.”

  Molly’s scowl deepened. “But… tachyons are particles that can’t travel any slower than the speed of light, so…”

  “Don’t ask,” I said kindly. “I always find it better not to ask when faced with something like this. The answers will only upset you. Just considering the problems involved with time travel makes my head hurt. I really don’t want a lecture on quantum steam mechanics, and neither do you.”

  It didn’t take long to build up a full head of what passed for steam, and Tony finally put away his shovel, slammed the chamber door shut, and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a red-spotted handkerchief.

  “All clear, sir and miss. But now we need an exact destination, Ivor and I, if we’re to navigate the future timelines. We need proper spatial and temporal coordinates.”

  I took out the Merlin Glass and instructed it to show Ivor where and when to find Giles Deathstalker. The Glass immediately pulled itself out of my hand and shot through the air, growing in size as it went, until finally it hung hovering at the end of the hangar, filling the whole entrance.

  “I think it’s trying to tell us it knows the way,” I said.

  “That thing is really starting to creep me out,” said Molly. “Nothing should be able to do all the things that hand mirror can do. Not even if it was made by Merlin Satanspawn.”

  “Hush,” I said. “It might hear you.” I turned to Tony. “Aim Ivor at the gateway the Glass has just opened up, and it should give him all the coordinates he needs.”

  “I don’t know,” Tony said dubiously.

  “Just do it,” I said. “What’s one more crazy thing in the midst of all this weirdness?”