by P. G. Bell
“Not quite,” she said. She patted her other pocket to make sure the NeuroGlobe was still safe, then crossed to the point where Wilmot had stood and picked up his fallen cap. She straightened it, dusted it off. Then she threw her own cap aside and pulled Wilmot’s down over her hair. It was tight, but it just fitted. “Now we can go,” she said.
“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t told them about me,” he went on. “You promised to keep me secret.”
“I also promised to do my best as a postie,” she said, squeezing between two of the statues. “I couldn’t keep doing both. Besides, things had changed. I thought they would be able to help us. And anyway, the statues were already here. They were waiting for us.”
She paused in front of Gertrude and finally looked her in the eyes. The life was still in them, but Gertrude was as unresponsive as a photograph. Suzy placed a hand on the troll’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
She paused at the secret exit and took a final look at the room. Then she turned and ran.
* * *
She had expected to step out of the post office into the noise and bustle of a living city, but the silence outside was absolute as well. The Old Guard stood frozen in various attitudes of flight in the alleyway behind the building. Dorothy had taken the lead, pulling Mr. Trellis along by the arm. Suzy waved her hand in front of Dorothy’s face and called her name, but knew it was fruitless. Turning sadly away, she hurried around the building and into the square.
It was a snapshot of chaos. Statues blocked every street, while the cars, bikes, and various unclassifiable vehicles were trapped in the midst of evasive maneuvers, their drivers shaking their fists or jumping clear of impending disaster.
“She must have brought every single statue,” she said, awed. “A whole army.”
“At least they’re stuck, too,” said Frederick. “What d’you suppose happened? It’s everywhere.”
“It must be something to do with the jar,” she said, fighting her way through the stalled traffic toward the opposite side of the square. “Or the wand? I don’t even know how it’s supposed to work.”
“I think you point it at something and just sort of feel what you want to happen,” said Frederick. “But I don’t see how that could cause a whole city to stop.”
She bit her lip with worry. “Can we call someone?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, is there any way of contacting someone in charge? The Union must have a prime minister or a president or something. Someone to send help.”
“No,” he said, starting to sound uncomfortable. “At least, not officially. There are things we all share, like the postal service and the Ether Web, but each Impossible Place is supposed to govern itself. The trolls have their council of elders, the Clockwork Kingdom has its chief automaton, and nobody even knows how the Wicker Women of High Heath do things, because nobody who’s asked them has ever been seen again. Everywhere’s different.”
“It sounds like chaos,” she said.
“That’s not the point,” he said. “Each Impossible Place makes its own rules. No one’s supposed to be in charge of the whole thing.”
They slipped past the blockade of statues onto the main boulevard. Suzy watched carefully, trying to remember exactly which side street she and Wilmot had emerged from on their way to the post office earlier.
“Where are we going?” he said.
“Back to the train. We need to get out of town.”
“But how are we going to get it to move if everything’s frozen?”
“I don’t know yet,” she said, feeling the threat of tears prickling behind her eyes again. “I don’t know anything, but we can’t stay here.”
She paused at the entrance to one of the streets. It looked like it could be the right one, but the same was true of the last two they had passed. And as if that weren’t bad enough, there was at least one statue standing guard in every one of them. Even though they were immobile, Suzy didn’t quite have the courage to look at their pitted, twisted faces. She put her head down and ran on. “Is this Crepuscula’s plan?” she said. “Invade the Union with statues?”
“No, this is just to recapture me,” said Frederick. “Her real plan would be much worse.”
The thought spurred Suzy on. She felt exposed and vulnerable out in the streets like this. She wanted the warmth of the Express. “Let’s try down here,” she said, trusting to luck and leading them into a side street. Even if it wasn’t the one she had taken earlier, it shouldn’t take them too far away from the freight yard. As she wove through the crowd, her mind raced.
“I can move things,” she said. “Like the glass shard, and the wand. If I try hard enough, I can … unstick them.”
“Do you think you can unstick the train?”
“Maybe. The glass was easy. The wand was harder. Maybe it’s something to do with size.”
“In which case, the train will be impossible,” he said.
“Yes, thanks for that.”
A minute later, they reached a small junction, and at last she saw a shop she recognized. “It’s that way!” she exclaimed, setting off in the new direction with a greater sense of purpose. They passed two more statues in the next street, which she did her best to ignore.
“Do you think that’s why I’m not frozen?” asked Frederick. “Because you were holding me when all this started?”
“Maybe,” she said. “If I can unfreeze other things by touching them, I suppose it makes sense.”
Frederick ruminated on this for a moment. “Then don’t let go of me,” he said.
“I won’t,” she said. “I promise.”
* * *
They took two wrong turns and a convoluted detour before they finally arrived back in the freight yard. Suzy’s elation at seeing it was quickly tempered by the sight of another statue standing guard at the near end of the platform. Its sword was drawn, and it seemed to have been scanning the faces of the fleeing crowd when everyone was frozen.
Her hand strayed instinctively to Fletch’s wand, although she wasn’t sure how she could use it to defend herself, should she need to. She still had no idea how magic worked, or what it could do. Had the wand malfunctioned when it hit …
“… the jar!” She stopped in her tracks as her imagination spat out a big, fat, tantalizing idea.
“What about it?”
“There was time inside it. But it was my time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Crepuscula said she’d taken the time from the end of my life. It was time only I was supposed to have.”
“So?”
“So, what if I’m having that time now? Instead of putting it back where it came from, breaking the jar gave it back to me here and now. But it’s only mine, so the rest of the world doesn’t get to live it with me.”
“You mean, you’re getting half an hour of life back while the rest of the world is on pause?” said Frederick.
“Yes. I think. I mean, maybe.” She shook her head to clear it. “Does any of that make sense?”
“I’ve no idea,” he said. “I’m not a temporal fuzzicist. I suppose we’ll find out when the thirty minutes are up.”
A shock ran through her. “Oh no! How long have we got left?”
“I don’t know. They don’t make watches in my size.”
“We can’t have long.” She redoubled her grip on Frederick and broke into a run, forcing her way between the frozen trolls blocking the platform between her and the Express. “Maybe only minutes!”
It was less, as she discovered when the world snapped back into motion around her, and a troll worker, fleeing the invader in the freight yard, crashed into her, sending her flying. She just had the presence of mind to land on her back, clutching Frederick’s globe to her chest as she landed.
“Watch it!” the troll barked as he leaped over her and ran on.
Panic surrounded Suzy on all sides as the trolls stampeded up the platform, threatening to crush her under
foot. She struggled upright, only to lock eyes with the statue in the yard. For an awful second, the trolls’ panic infected her, and she found she couldn’t move, even as the statue turned and lumbered toward her. Only Frederick brought her back to her senses.
“Run!” he screamed.
Jostled and buffeted, Suzy turned and joined the stampede.
22
RED ALERT
With mounting alarm, Captain Neoma read the hastily scrawled report the Troll Territory observer had just handed her.
“And this is happening right now?” she said.
The observer, a young troll called Scrunge, according to his name badge, nodded frantically. “The human girl was there in the vault one second, and the next she was gone. Vanished!”
Neoma folded the paper. “Find her,” she said. “Check the Express.”
Scrunge nodded and dashed back to his desk, while Neoma made straight for Lord Meridian’s office. Sergeant Mona had the good sense not to stop her as she marched straight up to the door and threw it open, ignoring the STRICTLY NO ADMITTANCE sign—meeting or no meeting, this wouldn’t wait.
“My lord,” she started, before trailing into silence at the remarkable scene that met her eyes.
Lord Meridian sat in one of the leather armchairs, calmly reading a book, while on the floor at his feet lay the Berserker Chief. The huge man was curled into a ball, hugging himself and rocking slowly from side to side, whimpering. He started to his feet when he saw Neoma and bared his jagged teeth at her, but then his bottom lip trembled, and to Neoma’s amazement, a tear glimmered in his eye. He must have seen her surprise because he tried to hide his face, and shoved her effortlessly aside as he squeezed out through the doorway. The observers all ducked beneath their desks when they saw him coming, but he ignored them and loped hurriedly away toward the exit, his face downcast.
“What happened in here?” said Neoma, getting to her feet.
“Enlightenment, Captain.” Lord Meridian put down his book. “The Berserker Chief came here to expand his horizons. It can be an emotional experience.”
If that answer was intended to put her mind to rest, Neoma thought, it had failed—she had had no idea until now that Berserkers were even capable of crying, let alone being reduced to quivering wrecks. But there was no time to worry about that now. She handed him the folded paper.
“Crepuscula’s closed in on Frederick and the girl in Trollville, sir. I’m taking a squad out to extract them, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Lord Meridian had scanned through the note and risen from his chair before she had even finished speaking. “Blast! I should have anticipated this.” He shooed her toward the door. “Put your team together and take my personal train. It’s the quickest we have.”
“Thank you, sir.”
But as she hurried to gather her troops together, she found she was unable to banish the memory of the Berserker Chief’s eyes welling up in the second before he had turned and fled. Yes, fled, because she was sure now that he had been running from something. And Berserkers never ran—it just wasn’t in their nature. The chancellor of Wolfhaven had stormed out of her meeting as well. What was going on in that office?
She pushed the thought to one side—all her unanswered questions would have to wait. It was time to fight, at long last. She had a Union to save.
23
BACK UP TO SPEED
A tinkling of glass.
The fragments of the jar scattered across the floor and were promptly ground underfoot by Crepuscula, who snatched at the empty air where, from her perspective, Suzy had been standing less than a second earlier. Fletch finished his flying leap for the wand and landed empty-handed. By the time he regained his feet, looking around in confusion, Crepuscula was sifting through the shards of glass with the tip of her cane, her back to him.
He crept silently toward the edge of the room, hoping to make a discreet exit before anyone thought to notice him again. The statues seemed distracted by the girl’s vanishing act, and the shadow … well, it was hard to tell. But he’d take his chances.
“She’s a lucky one,” Crepuscula said, picking a shard of glass from the tip of one finger and teasing a drop of blood free. It was dark blue. “She got her time back and used it to make off with my prize. I’d say that’s very lucky indeed. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Fletch tried to move as silently as possible, lifting each foot carefully and placing it down flat. He had only taken two steps when, without looking round, she clicked her fingers and pointed straight at him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
He started, then felt angry with himself for being so easily unsettled. “I’m going to find someone who can sort out this mess,” he said. “And by ‘mess,’ I mean you.”
“Charming,” she said flatly. “But I’ve not finished with you yet.”
“Well, I’ve finished with you.” He shook his fist at her. Now that he was speaking his mind, he found his anger came tumbling out, driving him onward. It felt like freedom. “I might not have liked that slip of a Postmaster much, but I respected him. All he wanted was to follow his dad, and he busted a gut, day in and day out. He didn’t deserve what you did to him.”
Crepuscula, who had maintained a look of polite patience throughout Fletch’s diatribe, simply nodded and said, “Where has the girl gone?”
“How should I know?” he spat. “She just vanished, along with my wand. And as long as she’s out of your reach, good luck to her!”
“Let me rephrase the question,” said Crepuscula. “She came here on that infernal train of yours. Where is it stationed?”
Fletch folded his arms. “Not telling.”
Crepuscula sucked her breath in through her teeth. “Why must people always make this so difficult?” She pointed the tip of her cane at the kneeling figure of Gertrude, who went rigid and promptly shot ten feet into the air, where she hung, rotating slowly, her eyes wide with fear and anger. “Tell me where the Impossible Postal Express is,” said Crepuscula, “or this dear nurse will suffer some deeply unpleasant experiences.”
“You wouldn’t!” Fletch cried, although he knew already that Crepuscula would. He could see it in her face.
“Don’t tell her a thing, Fletch!” cried Gertrude. “She killed Wilmot! And I’d sooner die than help her.”
“You just might,” said Crepuscula, giving her cane a flick and putting Gertrude into a swift triple somersault. “Now be quiet, please. I want to hear what your friend has to tell me.”
She turned her flinty gaze on Fletch, who swallowed and cursed himself. He already knew he had lost.
24
LAWS OF MOTION
“Ahoy, down there!”
Suzy looked up into the face and mustache of Stonker and realized they had arrived. The Belle de Loin stood over her, steaming and ready for action. A noise behind her made her turn, and over the heads of the stampeding trolls, she saw the statue advancing up the platform toward them.
“Remember to keep me hidden!” Frederick hissed as she scrambled up the ladder. “For my sake and theirs.”
Suzy didn’t need to be told twice and buried Frederick deep in her pocket. She wasn’t about to let anyone else suffer the consequences of what she’d done.
“What took you so long?” said Stonker as she reached the gangway. “Where’s the Postmaster? And can someone please tell me what the blazes is going on out there?”
“It’s an attack,” she said. “We have to get out of here.”
Stonker started at the sight of the approaching statue and bundled her into the cab, where he slammed the door shut. Ursel had stuck her head out one of the side windows and was watching the unfolding drama with obvious alarm.
“Unk!”
Ursel backed into the middle of the cab, but her warning came too late, as the terrible face of the statue rose into view, blotting out the light. The Belle de Loin creaked and leaned to one side as the stone figure smashed the window into fragments wit
h one blow of its fist.
Suzy threw herself to the ground to avoid the flying glass, but there was nowhere to hide. The statue let out a bellow of triumph, as loud as a foghorn. Its lips didn’t move, it had no throat or lungs to draw breath, but the cry kept coming, until Suzy thought it would drive her mad. The thing had found its prey. It was calling its fellows.
Something moved over her, very close to her head, and she looked up, expecting to see a stone hand reaching for her. Instead, she saw Ursel. The bear reached into the firebox and plucked out a burning banana. There was a sizzling sound, like bacon frying, and the flames licked hungrily at the fur of her paw. Then, with one leap, she threw herself at the window and shoved the banana straight into the statue’s face.
There was an eruption of blue sparks, and the statue fell away. A second later, they all heard the heavy crunch as it hit the platform. They raced to the window to see.
The statue lay below them, its head wreathed in blue fire. Its cry died away as the flames blazed brighter.
“Get down!” barked Stonker. Suzy was about to ask him why, when the statue’s head exploded. She threw herself flat as fragments of stone pinged and whistled off the body of the locomotive.
She blinked away the purple blob that the explosion had left on her vision and raced back to the window. There was very little left of the statue—just a pair of stone legs, lying at the fringe of a smoldering crater.
“That was horrible!” she exclaimed.
“That was lucky,” said Stonker, springing to Ursel’s side. “Of all the dashed silly things…”
Suzy joined him, and together they helped Ursel into a sitting position against the wall of the cab. The bear let out a low growl and clutched at her paw—the fur had burned away up to the elbow, leaving angry red blisters.
“I’ve seen some irresponsible maneuvers in my time, but that one tops them all,” said Stonker. “You could have blown yourself sky high.”
“Growlf,” said Ursel.
Stonker smiled. “Yes, I’ll admit, it was rather wonderful. Thank you.”
